#first the way he is lounging on a BUNK BED

[personinthepalace]

Edward Bluemel's Binging Essentials - A Discovery of Witches

this is my new favorite edward bluemel video hahaha (x)

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 7 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: One phone call was never going to be enough for Bradley. Another opportunity falls into his lap, and he emails you right away to see if you can make a little time for him. When he shares a bit more with you than he bargained for, he's pleasantly surprised once again by how open and authentic you are.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley being vulnerable

Length: 4300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley was never usually one to get lost in a daydream. He was exceptionally good at focusing on flying when he was in the air. If he had a task to complete on the ground, he always got it done. But when he spent the rest of his day after talking on the phone with you in his bunk, he wasn't focused on much except the sound of your voice. Then he dug out the pictures you'd mailed to him so he could see your face as well. The combination of everything about you was almost too much, and he didn't know how he'd manage in person.

He still had weeks of his deployment left, and he'd never wanted to get home so badly in his life. That first date was already set. He was annoyed he couldn't give you a firm idea on when it could happen, but you didn't seem to mind too much. In fact, you told him you'd be ready whenever he got back. And that you'd take him any way you could get him. Well, as long as you still wanted him next month, you could have him.

With a smile on his face, Bradley reached for the stack of letters from your class and took the time to judge the drawing contest. All he really did was award each kid their own unique superlative. The purple jet that he thought was Violet's won the 'I Wish the Navy Liked Colors' award. Jayden's drawing of the jet with the dog named Vanessa for a pilot won the 'She Probably Flies Better Than I Do' award. And the one that looked like a dragon won the 'Fanciest Scales' award.

He wrote on the back of each picture, chuckling the whole time. Then he got to the one you drew, and he noticed something he'd missed when he first opened the newest box from your class. Next to his name written on the side of the F/A-18, you'd drawn a little heart. He was all smiles as he flipped it over and started writing.

Hey, Gorgeous,

This one's my favorite, but don't tell the kiddos, okay? The little heart really sold it for me. I can't wait to see you.

Bradley

After he packaged everything up and dropped it off to be sent back to the states, he made his way to dinner. He ate his meatloaf alone once again, but he hadn't felt lonely in months. The adrenaline rush of the phone call was finally starting to wear off, but he felt warm all over. You'd be asleep now back in California, but maybe there was a chance you had in fact emailed him that selfie before you went to bed. And that is what once again lured him back to the lounge. You had a vise-like grip on every part of him, and he was itching to know exactly what you looked like tonight while he was talking to you.

Unsurprisingly, he had to wait a bit until there was a computer free that he could use. Sundays always seemed to be when the lounge was swamped, but he didn't mind. He just sat back and thought about the way you said his name. He could imagine you whispering it. He could even imagine you screaming it.

"Shit," he grunted, hopping up when it was finally his turn, and he logged into his email account to find that you wrote to him approximately fifteen minutes after the phone call ended. And when he opened your message, he leaned in a little closer to make sure nobody else around him could catch even a glimpse of the photos you attached.

His heart started beating in that same erratic way it had when he listened to you telling him you thought about kissing his scars. Not only had you emailed him a sweet looking selfie of you in bed wearing an oversized sweatshirt, you sent a second, decidedly spicier one, too. 

Bradley ran his hand over his mouth and mustache, trying not to groan as he quickly memorized every detail of that second photo. You'd removed that oversized sweatshirt and snuggled down under the soft looking sheet, and there was not a scrap of shirt fabric covering your arms or chest. Inch after glorious inch of the soft swell of your breasts was visible before the sheet forced him to imagine what the rest would look like. And he had a very vivid imagination.

When his hand dropped down to his side, he realized he was staring open mouthed at the photo. The little smirk you wore in it let him know you were absolutely intentional about this, and that was such a huge turn on for him. This is how you wanted him to see you. Fuck. He scrolled back up to the first photo where you were wearing your sweatshirt and a much more innocent smile, and he whispered, "Okay, Gorgeous. You've ruined me."

He realized as he scrolled all the way back up to your actual message that there were probably a lot of guys who got sent straight up pornography from their wives or girlfriends when they were deployed, but this had to be the hottest looking thing that ever graced his inbox. And you were still completely covered up. He shook his head to clear his mind as he started reading.

Bradley,

Thank you for the phone call. I'm sitting here kind of regrouping while the butterflies are still going crazy in my belly. I can't pinpoint exactly what it is with you that sets them off, but hearing your voice for twenty minutes straight has turned me into a boneless heap on my bed. I'm almost afraid of what might happen to me if you touch me.

It's gone. I deleted my profile and the entire dating app. I'm no longer looking for single guys with jobs who are between 30 and 40 years old. I'm just looking for a 36-year old Naval aviator who wants to take me to the beach in Coronado to watch the sunset with Thai food and Prosecco.

I hope you come home soon. Do you have any idea how much longer you'll be gone? Why isn't the Navy taking into consideration the fact that you and I have a date to go on? I'd just really like to see your face in person as soon as possible.

I'm attaching two photos, probably against my better judgement. Maybe it's just my excuse to get you to call me Gorgeous again. I can't wait to see you.

Your favorite pen pal

He wanted to wait until he had some gym selfies to send, but he couldn't leave you hanging. Not when those two, flawless photos caught his eye again. So he started typing up a response, and soon he found that he wanted to talk to you on the phone again badly enough that he was going to go back to one of the admirals to see if there was any way he could.

----------------------------

You had such a hard time falling asleep on Saturday night after talking to Bradley. It was like your body had accepted the inevitable before your brain had. You were completely enchanted by him, and the call made it so much worse. Hearing him call you Gorgeous through your phone speaker was almost more than you could handle. You were turned on and too warm, even without your sweatshirt. You couldn't believe you sent him that photo. You couldn't believe you trusted him enough to keep it private.

He probably dated women in the past who sent him things that were way more explicit than a selfie where they were covered up, but you were still a teacher who wanted to keep her job. You loved your class, and you knew nobody else could handle your kids as well as you could. But you wanted to give Bradley what you could for now.

It was the description of the perfect date and the promise that he'd kiss you as soon as he saw you that kept playing in your mind. And you let it keep playing on loop, because he lived in Coronado. And that's how you finally dozed off. When you woke up on Sunday morning, you had a brand new email in response to your selfies.

Gorgeous,

I'm thrilled to hear the app is gone. All of the other single guys aged thirty to forty are probably at home crying right now, and I can't blame them. I'll just sit here with a smug look on my face.

That phone call was one of the best of my life. The way you say my name is somehow better than I imagined it would sound, and I'd been spending a lot of my free time thinking about it. Hearing your voice and seeing you in these photos is a privilege. That second one had me staring with my mouth hanging open for a few minutes. I think I just about memorized it, but I'm going to check one more time before I log off. Okay, maybe two more times. As much as I love it, I don't want to feel pressured to send me things like that. But dear god, Gorgeous, I mean it when I say you take that word to a whole new level.

You don't need an excuse to get me to call you Gorgeous. Hopefully by next month, you'll be hearing it so much in person that you'll be sick of it. And it's not a matter of if I touch you, it's a matter of when.

As soon as I have a better idea of when I'll be back in San Diego, that information will be in your inbox immediately.

I can't wait to see you,

Bradley

You couldn't wait that long. You would never make it. Your sheets were brushing your bare skin as you thought about him calling you Gorgeous so many times that you got sick of it, but you knew that would never happen. You were going to need another hobby or maybe five to help you pass the time, but for now, you decided to work on your lesson plans for the coming week.

Your kids would probably be happy to learn that you were planning on extending your aviation lessons to the end of the school year. Or at least until Bradley got back. What you wouldn't give to have him visit your classroom. Just the idea of him standing in front of the board, maybe in his flight suit, left you light headed. You already knew your kids would be absolutely delighted to meet him after writing back and forth so many times.

After you managed to distract yourself for a full day, you were just getting into bed when you heard your phone ping with a notification. "Oh god," you groaned in pleasure. When you opened the new email from Bradley, you were met with the promised gym selfies. One was of his reflection which was taken in a long mirror that seemed to cover most of a wall. You could see some other people working out in the background, but front and center was Bradley curling a massive looking dumbbell in snug shorts and a shirt with the sleeves ripped off.

You dropped down onto your bed and zoomed in on his biceps. "Dear Lord." Your heart was hammering in your chest now. Did he not know what he looked like? Did he not know that his body was absolutely flawless? The second photo was even better. The half-smirk, half-smile and the peek of pretty, white teeth. The slightly messy hair. The chocolatey brown eyes. The scars with the beads of sweat running down them. "Unbelievable."

And then you read the short message.

Two gym selfies, as promised. You asked for a nice closeup of my face, and that's as good as it gets. Talk soon, Gorgeous.

You were still looking at the photos when you fell asleep.

-----------------------------

Bradley shouldn't have been surprised that another mission was in the works. He'd been so caught up in you, he almost expected smooth sailing and a direct path back to San Diego so he could get on with his personal life. But no such luck. After several days holed up in planning sessions, the only real happiness he found was in each new email from you.

There was another class photo in one. There was a selfie of you at a Thai restaurant in another. And there were always a lot of fun details about your day, too. But it was the bits where you let him know you were thinking about him that made him a little weaker for you with every passing day. His favorite was when you told him you donated all of your DVDs of movies with spiders in them. He also loved it when you told him that your students wanted to meet him.

If he could just get back, you and he would be watching all the spider-less movies together, and he'd be more than happy to visit your classroom. But, fuck, this deployment was dragging. He was tired, but he wasn't sleeping well. And there seemed to be cabbage rolls every evening in the cafeteria. When he finally made it out on deck a few days before he was supposed to fly the mission, he ended up talking to Marty.

"You need a hand with that?" Bradley asked the mechanic as he worked on taking apart an engine.

"Sure, Lieutenant," Marty replied, handing Bradley some very greasy bolts and a wrench. "Just hang onto those for me."

Two minutes of watching him work, and Bradley wished he'd brought his phone with him to record a video for your class. "The kids would love this," he muttered, and Marty chuckled.

"You still sending stuff to that elementary class back in San Diego? The pen pals?"

"Yeah," Bradley replied. "I think I've kind of adopted them. Or maybe they've adopted me? Either way, I've been writing to them this entire deployment. And... you know how you asked me if I was dating a teacher a few months ago?"

Marty looked at him and laughed. "Let me guess. You fell for their teacher?"

He nodded and sighed when he thought about you. "Yeah... it's just been a lot of emails and letters and one phone call, but now I can't wait to get back home."

"Damn," Marty grunted as he removed another bolt. "Some guys have all the luck." Bradley ended up helping him lift some heavy parts from a crate as Marty told him, "I have a ten minute FaceTime call scheduled for later this week if you want to use it to talk to your new girlfriend again."

Bradley was ready to jump at the chance to see your face and hear your voice at the same time, but instead he said, "I can't take that from you, but thanks, man."

Marty shrugged. "I'll just end up talking to my sister again. You can have it."

Bradley stared at him for a few seconds. "Yeah? You're sure?"

"All yours."

Bradley stayed long enough to get the details and help Marty unload everything else he needed to finish his project, and then he got cleaned up and went to the lounge to email you. If you were able to talk to him over FaceTime, it would be everything he needed to get through this last flight mission and end his deployment on a high note.

--------------------------

"Lieutenant Bradshaw said my drawing is the funniest one!"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw likes the rooster beak I put on my jet!"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw said mine is the least realistic in a good way!"

You were trying not to laugh as you looked at each of the little messages Bradley wrote on the backs of the F/A-18 drawings. They were all somehow well thought out and personalized. It was as if he actually knew these kids. But you supposed that in a way, he did. You kept going back to your desk to look at the note on the back of your drawing.

Hey, Gorgeous,

This one's my favorite, but don't tell the kiddos, okay? The little heart really sold it for me. I can't wait to see you.

Bradley

Seeing him was all you could think about now. You were almost completely convinced that your feelings would translate well from virtual to personal interaction. How could they not? He was as sweet and sincere over the phone as he was through his writing.

When you checked your phone after your kids were dismissed for the day, you tapped on a new email from Bradley before you started packing your bag to head home.

Gorgeous, any chance you have ten minutes you're willing to spend on a FaceTime call? Tomorrow night around 8:00 for you?

You squeaked in delight at the mere thought of it. His face and his voice and his words and his attention all at the same time? Ten minutes of it?

Yes! I'll be ready!

Now you had to wait. You also had to get your friends to bump up the Friday night dinner reservation to 5:00. And you needed to make sure you looked nicer than you did when you were usually lounging at home in your oversized sweatshirt. 

So when Friday evening rolled around, and you barely made it home from dinner by 8:00, you were a little frazzled. You wanted to take the time to fix your makeup, and you wanted to change into a cuter shirt that your friends would have definitely called you out on if they saw you wearing it to dinner, but there was no time. Your phone was already ringing at 8:01.

This time, the butterflies erupted as soon as you accepted the call and saw Bradley sitting there in his flight suit with a hesitant smile on his face. He didn't even have to say a word to make you feel like you were going to float up to the ceiling even as you tried to sit down on your bed.

"Bradley," you breathed softly, and his smile grew exponentially. 

"Hey, Gorgeous."

You bit your lip as you took in all the details of his face on your tiny phone screen. His brown eyes were wide as he did the same to you, and you couldn't stop yourself before you said, "Hey, Handsome."

His cheeks immediately flushed with a pink tint, and he looked down at the table in front of him with a bashful smile. You wanted to climb through your phone to get to him, settle yourself down on his lap, and feel how rough his flight suit was against your hands. You wanted to tip his face up so he was looking at you again, and when he did that on his own, you almost screamed in delight at what he said next.

"Damn, Baby. You didn't need to get all dressed up just to talk to me. You look beautiful right now, but I'm also partial to your sweatshirt."

You looked down at yourself and then back at him with a little laugh. He was staring at you in awe as you said, "I always look like this."

"You always look like this? You always look this hot?" he asked, that little grin you liked so much dancing around his lips. "Seriously?"

"Well, I mean, I didn't do anything special. I wanted to, but I ran out of time, and I definitely didn't want to miss your call."

Your heart was thudding as he really scanned your face and let out a low whistle. "I guess I'll find out for myself soon enough. About two more weeks to go, and then I'll be home. I just got that information today."

"Two weeks!" you exclaimed, nearly dropping your phone. Images of beach sunsets and Bradley's big hand holding yours filled your mind. "That's better than I was hoping for!"

You watched him run his hand through his hair, almost like he was nervous now. "Same. So what do you say? Two Saturdays from now, as long as everything goes as planned, you want to go on that first date with me?"

"Yes, Bradley," you replied immediately. "If you want to spend your first day back on dry land with me, then that's absolutely what I want to do."

His voice was deep and raspy as he said, "Then it's a date." But his eyes still seemed uncertain, and you knew instinctively that there was more going on as he asked, "You think... maybe we could talk about date number two for a minute? I was thinking we would go out to a restaurant so I can prove to you that I clean up okay."

You had to press your lips together for a few seconds before you said, "I have no doubt in my mind that you'd look just as good in a tee shirt as you would in a tuxedo."

That made him laugh as he scratched along the stubble on his jaw. "Humor me, Gorgeous? We would end up going out on a second date, right?" he asked, and somehow you could tell that something else was on his mind. "Maybe we would even go on a third?"

"Would?" you asked softly. "Don't you mean will?"

"Shit, I'm sorry," he said, leaning in a little closer. "Yeah. We will."

You and he studied each other as you asked, "Is there something wrong?"

He leaned back in his seat, and your heart started beating a most uncomfortable rhythm. "Damn it," he muttered, closing his eyes briefly as he took a deep breath. "We only have a few minutes on here, and I'm fucking it up because I'm nervous." You noticed he was rubbing his palms along his thighs, and he looked you in the eye as he said, "I really like you. All I can think about is getting home and doing all the things I promised. I don't usually feel like I have anything special to look forward to in San Diego. Or at least I didn't before we started talking." He cleared his throat and added, "I'm flying a final mission here in a few hours. It's a sensitive one, and... I just wanted you to know that I'll be thinking about you until I have to put my head down and get to work."

"Oh," you gasped, suddenly more aware than ever that he had the kind of anxiety inducing, adrenaline spiking job you could only ever dream of. Your fourth grade classroom was tame by comparison. Your students were nothing compared to opposing fighter jets. His career was dangerous.

Tears filled your eyes as he groaned a little bit and whispered, "I'm sorry, Baby. I kind of killed the vibe."

"You didn't," you told him quickly, studying the concern written on his features. Then your voice got even softer as you asked, "How will I know you're okay?"

He cleared his throat and said, "Sometimes they close off communication as we get closer to port. Of course I'll email you if I can, otherwise I'll let you know when I'm back in San Diego." His brown eyes flicked to the side and then back to you. "I'm going to have to go in a minute here."

There were a lot of things you knew would have to be left unsaid for now, so you told him what you could. "I really like you, too," you promised him, and some of the worry melted away from his face. "And I'm thinking dinner at an Italian restaurant for our second date. That way you can get cleaned up nice, and I can wear a dress that I'll be stressing out about all night long. And you can tell me that I look gorgeous while my foot keeps intentionally bumping yours under the table." He was smiling now, so you decided to go for broke. "And you kind of promised me takeout on your couch with a spider-free movie. I was hoping you'd play a song on the piano for me. I was hoping to cover both of us with a blanket and kiss you senseless. How does that sound?" You were gripping your phone a little tighter, hoping you'd be able to hear his response before he said he had to go.

"That sounds perfect, Gorgeous," he said, looking a lot calmer now. "Let's do that."

"Please, be careful."

"I will."

And then he was gone.

-------------------------------

Bradley needed to make it home, because he decidedly had a lot to do there. Nat was expecting not one, but two dinners out of him now. There were eighteen fourth graders he wanted to meet. And as he ended a FaceTime call with the woman of his dreams while she had tears in her eyes, he knew he wanted to go on those dates more than anything else. If he never got to meet you in person... well he couldn't even think about that right now. He was supposed to report to his jet on the main runway in an hour, but you kept popping up in every corner of his mind. You were more emotionally open with him over a ten minute call than Vanessa ever was.

"Bradshaw!" He turned to see a petty officer coming toward him with a box. "Last mail call."

"Thank you," he replied, already smiling as he recognized your handwriting. His nineteen pen pals were here to keep him company once again, and his heart swelled with something he didn't even want to try to identify at the moment. All he could do was drop the box off in his bunk and tell himself he'd open it when he got back after nightfall.

---------------------------

Vulnerable Bradley is nervous just thinking about what might happen. He's starting to feel like Gorgeous could be be the one waiting on the San Diego end of all of his deployments from now on, but he needs to get through the rest of this one first. Maybe they can meet in the next part? Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 8

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[mediumgayitalian]

The slam of his car door is loud enough to make him jump, echoing across the dipping valleys and proud hills. He curses to himself, standing frozen, one, two, three, four, but no one comes running. A light dusting of snow falls in a perfect circle around an invisible border, and Lee shivers as he jogs over to it, worn sneakers squelching over the wet, half-thawed grass.

As soon as he steps onto the bottom of Half-Blood Hill, he feels the difference, the balmy breath of warm summer under the clear December sky. The power of Thalia’s tree sends its usual shiver down his back, and he touches it, briefly, as he speeds past, sending his usual prayer of thanks. He pauses at the crest of the hill, using the bright gibbous moon to survey the camp, marking his path.

“Two, four….twelve,” he mutters to himself, craning his neck to map every one of the patrol harpies. He crouches for a while, watching them, tracking their patrol: paired, hexagonal, staggered circuits around the cabins. Four minute window of opportunity.

He can do four minutes.

As the two harpies walking the Apollo-Artemis circuit begin to cross the common, Lee bolts. He keeps low and close to the shadows, sprinting fast and on the balls of his feet to stay quiet, and ducks behind whatever shadow is closest whenever something looks his way. By the time the harpies turn back towards Cabin Seven, he’s already on the rickety porch, tossing his backpack inside the window Michael left open for him and throwing himself in after it.

He lands palms-first, tucking into a roll to absorb the momentum. He freezes, panting, by the leg of what is usually Amir’s bed, straining to hear past the crickets and cicadas.

One, two, three, four.

Nothing.

He’s good.

“Took your damn sweet time, didn’t you.”

“Hello to you too,” Lee grumbles, pushing himself upright. From across the cabin, lounging on his bed like a goddamn French monarch, is his dick of a brother, grinning like the little shit he is. “Haven’t seen you in weeks, most people say hello, et cetera, et cetera.”

Michael shrugs. “You’re late. I watched you on the hill; you coulda made that run twenty minutes ago.”

“Nobody asked you.”

“I’m always asking me.”

“Get over her, boogerbrain.”

“Real mature,” Michael mocks, but ambles over anyway. He retches like a twelve year old when Lee hugs him, but twists his hands in the back of Lee’s shirt when he lets go too fast. Lee hides his smile in his over-gelled hair.

“You might miss me less if you actually write me letters, you know.”

“I didn’t miss you,” he responds automatically. “And I wouldn’t have to write you letters if you stayed home, already.”

Lee sighs. “…I have school, Michael.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure your dumbass bio teachers have loads to teach the guy who can do open heart surgery with his eyes closed.”

“Yeah, yeah. If anyone could do with a good, old-fashioned, public school humbling, it would be you, hothead. You ready to go?”

Michael pulls away with a roll of his eyes. “Only since yesterday. Been waiting for your sorry ass.”

“My sorry — your sorry ass doesn’t have a car!”

Michael snickers, jogging back to his bunk and grabbing the black duffel bag resting under it. Lee makes quick work of packing his own bag, stuffing in a couple squares of ambrosia and and giant roll of bandages, just in case, before creeping over to the only bed left with someone still in it.

“Hey, kiddo.” He folds over the sheet pulled all the way over messy blonde curls, immediately plaguing the cabin with loud snoring. He rests his palm over a sleep-creased cheek, mapping his thumb over the freckles dotting pudgy cheekbones, and brushes back the hair plastered to his baby brother’s forehead. “Will, sweetheart, get up.”

It takes him a couple minutes of gentle prodding — when Will is out he is out — to wake up, squinting blearily in the dim fairy lights strewn across his bunk. He blinks, one, two, three, four, then gasps.

“Lee!”

“Oof,” Lee grunts, shifting his weight as he is abruptly accosted with an armful of child. He smiles, curling around Will’s flailing, chattering form, tightening his hold on his waist and resting his forehead on his shoulder. “Hi, buddy.”

“—missed you so much! Is this why your letter was late? Are you staying? Is this why Diana left yesterday? Is she here now? Is Cass coming? Is everybody coming? Can I —”

“C’mon, Motormouth,” Michael interrupts, cuffing Will’s ear as he walks by. “Go get your sneakers on. We’re going for a drive.”

“‘Kay,” Will days happily, dashing off to find the light-up Star Wars shoes he refuses to throw out, even though there are literal holes in the soles.

“You got his bag?”

“Yep,” Michael affirms, holding up a straining backpack. “Toothbrush. Hairbrush that he won’t use. Three comic books. Change of clothes. And two more changes of clothes for when he inevitably destroys the first one,” he adds when Lee opens his mouth. He shoots him an exasperated look. “Me and Diana have been chasing after the little brat for four months, dude. I got him.”

“Alright, alright,” Lee grumbles. “Heaven forbid I double-check.” He turns over to the door, where Will is tying his shoelaces, tongue peeking out of his mouth. “You ready, Will?”

He tugs on the two loops. The entire knot unravels. Quick as a flash, he stuffs the laces inside his shoes, scrambling to his feet.

“Yes,” he lies. He scratches at his throat.

Lee and Michel sigh in unison.

Luckily, the reaction is hardly more than itchy eyes and a cough. Lee herds him towards the door, sliding the backpack over his shoulders and holding out his arm and —

“Hold on a sec.”

“Why?” Will whispers.

“Shh,” Lee says.

Window cracked open, Michael exhales. The release of his bow hardly makes more than a soft hiss.

The angle is odd, limited space as there is, but Michael never misses — the clunky arrow whistles through the open window, sailing past the sloped roofs of the west wing cabins, and thunks somewhere behind the first layer of trees in the forest. Immediately, it lets loose a burst of sound identical to a dropped bottle and a group of teenagers cursing. In seconds, the curfew harpies are screeching, descending upon the source of the noise with the fury of a thousand sun chariots.

“Go go go go go,” Michael orders, wrenching open the door.

Will, immediately, takes off, gleeful at the opportunity to run away with permission (usually, he’s running from one of them, screeching at him to get back here). (Or Chiron, although Chiron has a much easier time catching up, what with the six limbs and all). (…Is Chiron an insect? Technically?)

“How long do we have?” Lee whispers, once Michael has caught up.

He shrugs. “Seven minutes, give or take? More than enough time.”

Lee worries his bottom lip. “More than…” He glances at the forest. Vaguely, in the low firelight, he can see the odd wing, hear the odd screech. Nothing looks very close. He glances at the rapidly approaching Athena cabin, just a few yards out of their way. Hm.

“Detour!” he decides. “Will, c’mon!”

Ignoring Michael’s hissed complaints, he veers towards to neatly maintained cabin. He slips in the space between Cabins Six and Four, holding tight to Will’s hand. He counts the windows as he passes — one, two, three, four — and stumbles to a stop, crouching down in the dirt.

“Oh, are you — for the love of Zeus.”

Lee ignores his eye-rolling, scanning the ground for pebbles. He selects a handful of them, careful not to choose anything too big, and jogs a few steps back.

“What’re you doing?” Will asks, too loud, but at least he tries to whisper.

Instead of answering, Lee launches the first pebble at the window.

It pings off harmlessly.

Waiting a breath for the harpies to come running, he continues, firing off pebble after pebble with increasing strength. Finally, after pebble #7, a face appears behind the clear glass, bleary eyes widening when they take in the sight in front of them. Quickly, the latches are undone, and the window is yanked open.

“Lee?!”

Lee grins. “Hey, Carter.”

“What’re you — you’re — it’s December! What’s going —”

“I need a favour,” Lee whispers. “Can you — cover for us?”

For the first time, Carter looks away, brows raising as he notices Micheal, who taps his (watchless) wrist obnoxiously, and Will, who waves brightly. Carter waves back, small smile tugging at his lips.

“Cover for you?”

“Just, like, infirmary stuff. I don’t think anything will happen, and if it does we’re an IM away, but —”

“Lee,” Carter says exasperatedly, “cover you guys for what?”

“Oh.” Lee clears his throat. “I, um. I need to do something for my family.”

Smiling, Carter rests his elbows on the windowsill, chin in his hands. “Mysterious.”

“We’ll be back by tomorrow evening,” Lee assures.

“And then you’ll stay for a bit?”

Lee’s mouth goes dry. “You want me to stay?”

Carter ducks his head, fingers tracing a mindless path on the windowsill. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you for a while.”

A thousand gods of prophecy could not predict the sound that comes out of Lee’s throat.

Something between a whimper and an awkward laugh, his voice cracks four seperate times. Carter giggles. Lee prays, genuinely, that a crater opens up beneath him and drops him right at Lord Hades’ feet.

“Everything okay, Lee?”

“Peachy,” he croaks.

Carter giggles again. Lee flushes. Michael gags exaggeratedly behind him, pausing mid-heave to whisper something to Will, and then there’s a giggle, and then two people fake-retching. Carter peeks through his dark eyelashes, pleased expression softening his heart-shaped face, and Lee counts twelve of his own capillaries straight-up explode.

“Well,” he says, too loudly. “I’m — well.”

“I think you have harpies to run from,” Carter suggests gently.

“Indeed.” Lee clears his throat, nodding. “As you have so astutely observed, we do —”

Michael, recognising the strained tone to his voice, groans. “Fucksake, Lee —”

“— and so I bid you adieu —”

“Dude, oh my gods, snap out of it —”

Lee can’t. He barely has control over his own mouth.

“— and vow to see you again in the eve.”

Feeling his soul exit his body, settle in front of him, and then crumple up and die, Lee fucking bows. There is the very distinctive sound of a hand slapping over a mouth, muffling an eruption of giggles, and then the hand of mercy, also known as Michael Yew, clamping on the back of his lava-hot neck.

“Please excuse him,” he says grandly. “He was dropped on his head as a child. He’s normal, usually.”

“Except when you wear your glasses,” Will pipes up. Lee makes a mental note to find Clarisse’s spear and shove it through his own eye. “He gets real weird when you wear your glasses. Once he walked into a wall and broke his nose.”

“…Did he.”

“Yep. And last time he —”

“God, this hurts me to say,” whispers Michael, “but I have to put a stop to this conversation. We’re on a time limit. C’mon, Will. Bye, Carter. Sorry for — well, you know. Apollonian dramatics, not always easy to control.”

He turns, dragging Lee, still hunched over, out of the Cabin Six shadow.

Lee does not un-hunch until they are well over the crest of Half-Blood Hill, harpy screeches beginning to echo behind them.

“I have never been more embarrassed to be related to you in my life,” Michael informs him, the second he’s upright. “Like, genuinely, I’m considering disowning you. That was atrocious, Fletcher. You need to get ahold of yourself. Where is your game? Your dignity?”

“I think he lost it when he was born,” Will says thoughtfully. “Or maybe when Carter smiled at him the first time.”

“I hate both of you,” Lee croaks.

Neither of them seem too incredibly bothered, snickering to each other as they duck into the car.

Willing his flush to go down, Lee herds them into his car. He takes a moment in the cool air to chill the hell out, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, then slips behind the wheel. He checks that Will is belted in properly, slips the car into neutral, and coasts down the road, waiting until Thalia’s tree slips out of sight before turning it on and hitting the gas.

“Where’re we goin’?

“You,” Michael says, flipping down the vanity mirror to glare sternly at Will, “are going to dreamland. It’s three in the morning. Time for bratty children to sleep.”

“What? No! I’m not tired!”

“Fine, fine,” Lee says, exchanging a grin with Michael. “Stay awake, then. As long as you like.”

Will narrows his eyes. “Really?”

“Yep.”

“No trick?”

Lee crosses his fingers. “‘Course not.”

“Fine,” he relents. He settles into the booster seat Lee dragged out of the trunk for him (which he hates), arms crossed over his chest, and stares out the window.

Counting off on his fingers — one, two, three, four — Lee and Michael begin to hum.

At first, nothing happens. Will taps absentmindedly on his knees, humming along to the parts he knows, but soon his fingers slow. Lee and Michael keep it low and quiet, cycling through quiet folk songs Michael’s dad taught him, matching with the rumbling of the car, the slight breeze of Lee’s cracked open window. Michael kicks softly at the base of his seat, one, two, three, four; and matches the rhythm of the radio static, the click of the blinkers on every turn.

Will’s out in twenty minutes.

———

The drive is long.

Michael curls up sometime around four, fogging up the windows with every snore. Lee keeps the radio on a low hum, letting the background noise keep him focused as he navigates. The Atlantic Ocean is ink-black in the early morning, and the waves crash loud enough that he can hear them over the sounds of the engine, and for a while they’re still far enough from the city that the air smells fresh. Even when it starts to sour, and the noise gets a lot more urban, it’s early enough and he’s east enough that the traffic is minimal. Never non-existent — he actually cannot imagine what a traffic-less New York would look like; he doubts he’ll ever live to see it — but enough that he keeps at a steady 35.

The drive through Jersey is uneventful. Farmland and suburbs, nothing he hasn’t seen every day of his life, nothing he didn’t see the last time he made the drive. He entertains himself by counting every brown car he sees, randomly wagering the number by the time he gets there. He’s relieved when he finally crosses the memorial bridge, driving down the exit ramp and pulling into the first big parking lot he sees. Michael wakes up as he puts the car in gear, killing the engine.

“We here?” he asks, popping the joints along his spine.

Lee yawns. “Pretty much, yeah. Pulled off the highway.”

“‘Kay.” He glances in the backseat, where Will is starting to stir. “You nap. I’m gonna find a place for him to change and brush his teeth, maybe get breakfast for all of us.”

“Sounds good”

He crawls in the backseat as Michael guides Will out of it, accepting the blanket tossed his way. He slides his hoodie over his face, lies back, and conks out in minutes.

———

“Yo, Lee. Get up. I got food.”

“Timizzit?” he asks, shaking the grogginess from his limbs.

“Eleven. You slept for four hours. We gotta be at the theatre in an hour.”

“When’s she on?”

“Fuck if I know, man. Diana said noon, I’m gonna be there at noon. You wanna piss off Diana?”

“No.” He rubs the heel of his palm into his eyes, reaching blindly in the direction of Michael’s voice. “Food, please.”

A bag of grease is deposited into his waiting hand. He is pleased to find three cheeseburgers within it, and immediately tears into them with a fervour that can only be described as ‘ravenous’, or perhaps ‘revolting’. Esurient, perhaps, if one was feeling poetic.

Finally awake enough to function, Lee looks critically at the scene in front of him. Michael is dressed in the same button-up and slacks he wears to his dad’s performances, on the years he’s in the U.S., and Will is in jeans without grass stains, real shoes, hair mostly brushed. Michael has even managed to find a shirt that’s not half-unraveled from Will picking at the seams.

“Nice,” he says, nodding in approval.

Michael picks at his nails, visibly preening. “Oh, it was no big deal.”

“Yeah, yeah. Dweeb.”

He polishes off his last burger, then ducks inside the nearest store to find somewhere to get changed. Diana told them it didn’t matter, really, what they wore, but Lee knows better. He knows what this means for Cass, and while yeah, sure, it wouldn’t really matter if he showed up in sweatpants, he wants to show her that he put in the effort. That even if her mother couldn’t, or wouldn’t, they will. All of them. He wants her to see them and know that they did this for her. He wants her to see them and know that they tried, that they care.

Hair perfectly placed and clothes as unwrinkled as he can get them, he hurries back to the car. The theatre isn’t far, and they have a little under an hour, but he doesn’t want to push it. Finding parking will be hard enough.

“Are we on a quest?” Will asks, five minutes out on the road.

“Eight year olds don’t go on quests.”

“Diomedes was ten when he fought the Trojan war.”

“Are you Diomedes?”

“No.”

“Are you ten?”

“No.”

“Then no quests for you.”

“Aw.”

“Your quest can be being quiet for twenty minutes,” Michael grumbles, making a face when Will sticks his tongue out at him.

———

part two

[blinddreams24]

Monster Under the Bed

Night 1. Dust

Inspired by @starzeah123

(Mention of possible drug use)

(Next)

You weren’t a troubled child growing up. Monsters were a mere fantasy to you until they came out of the mountain and definitely not what you’d expected. The fairy tales you were told were of scary beasts that hunted disobedient children and ate them.

But…

These monsters looked nothing like you’d imagined.

Sure, their king was a little intimidating. But he always had such a sad smile on his face that your eight year old self couldn’t find it in you to be scared. You’d hugged him when you met him and he’d cried.

The others weren’t so scary either.

The big fish lady acted scary but when Papyrus was nearby, she just roughhoused him and made you laugh.

It was fun growing up in the generation that got to meet the monsters first.

Back on topic, the idea of a “monster under your bed” had never really scared you. You even started leaving pillows under the bed as cushions.

You still kept that habit. Even though now, you lived in your own apartment. Your bed was further off the ground than normal. It was almost a bunk bed without the bottom bunk. Though it might as well be.

It was a very spacious area where you piled spare pillows, blankets, and the occasional plushy if you managed to get your hands on one. You had a tendency to lounge on the cushions in your free time, scrolling on your phone, reading, or drawing.

Nothing ever happened at night. You never expected anything to.

However.

Tonight was very different.

A thud that shook the bed and a curse woke you up. There was a moment of silence and then angry mumbling.

“Shuddup. Let me think.” Growled a gruff voice from under you.

You froze. Was there a robber in your room? Was he talking to you or did he have a buddy? Oh stars. Your baseball bat was on the floor next to your bed. There was no way you could reach it in time to ward off the intruder.

“Papyrus… please…”

Papy? Papyrus?

Suddenly your fear was forgotten. Maybe Papyrus’s brother had teleported the wrong way again and got stuck in your room instead of his actual destination.

You could offer your help.

“Excuse me?” You started, carefully peeking over the railing of your bed.

The room went silent.

Two glowing dots stared up at you, blue and red.

Ah, maybe Papy’s brother was high or something. Could monsters get intoxicated? He sure looked high.

“Uh, you kinda teleported the wrong way, I think?” You smiled. “I can help you get home if you’d like.”

The eyes only stared at you, unresponsive, for several minutes. He didn’t move a muscle, or, well, bone? He didn’t move an inch as he stared and you slowly got more and more uncomfortable.

What kind of crack was this guy on? Did he even see you?

“…Hello? Are you okay?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “…You’re not even startled.”

“Well… kinda. You did really scare me for a second. But you’re Pap’s brother, right?”

He flinched and glanced off to the side, like he was looking at something. You couldn’t figure out what. “What’s it to you?”

“Well, everyone knows Papyrus.” You dragged yourself out of bed. “And he’s always talking about his brother and his “lazy” ability to teleport. If you accidentally, I don’t know, teleported the wrong way, I can help you find your way back. Also, I’m awake now anyways so would you like anything? Water? Coffee?”

“……water’s fine.”

“Perfect. You can follow if you want.” You open the door to the living room and walked into the kitchen. “Make yourself at home.”

“……” He didn’t respond. Just stared at you.

Okay…

Turning on the light so you could see, you reached into the cabinet and pulled out the only cup inside. “I hope you don’t mind, I only have one cup. I can wash it again if you want?”

“…s’fine.” Oh stars, when did he get behind you?

You filled the glass at the sink and offered it to him. He looked at you. Then the glass. Then back at you.

A little nervous, you gently pushed it an inch closer.

He finally took the cup and immediately drank all of it. He did that satisfied gasp thing and started staring at you again.

“…When’s the last time you drank something, sir?” You asked.

He looked like he was calculating something. “……few days. Didn’t think ‘bout it.” He handed the glass back to you.

In the sink it went. “…Are you okay?”

Finally ending the staring contest, he looked away. “M’fine.” His hand found its way to his hoodie and the dusty red scarf underneath.

Aw! Did Papryus give him his old scarf?

You smiled fondly and looked away. That was definitely something Papy would do. “Well. You seem a little… out of it right now. I recommend resting before you head out. If you want, feel free to crash on the couch. There’s also… where you came in. If you don’t mind sharing the room. Or I can take the couch. Just… let me know what you’re okay with.”

He started staring again. “………You’ll just let a stranger take your room? Got a death wish, kid?” A wicked grin split his face and his eyelights flashed.

You blinked the spots out of your eyes. “Not a death wish. I just want to help. If you have somewhere else you can go, I won’t keep you.” You gestured at the door.

Eyes narrowed, he glanced between you and the front door, back and forth, until he finally turned and walked back into your room.

. . .

Okay then.

Well, you have a guest now. Time to… be a host, I guess.

You followed him into your room and waved away his threatening glare. “I’m not staying. I’m just grabbing my bedding. I’ll be on the couch if you need me.” You pulled your blanket and pillow off the bed and headed back towards the door. “Sleep well, sir.” The door hid those red and blue eyes with a click. You sighed quietly. His staring was intense. He must really be out of it.

The couch wasn’t as comfortable as your bed as you curled up on it but it worked as intended and you started dozing quickly. You set an alarm to make breakfast hopefully before your guest woke up and then let yourself pass out.

You could deal with getting him home tomorrow.

. . .

Something felt… off.

You slowly woke up and groaned, not ready to start the day. There was something different today wasn’t there? You couldn’t remember.

Rubbing your face, you opened your eyes and froze.

Oh yeah.

You had a guest.

And he was staring at you.

Again.

You blinked at the two eyelights above you in the darkness. What time was it? “…Hey.”

No response. Just intense staring.

“……Can’t sleep?”

“……”

“…Uh… Are you hungry? I can whip somethin’ together real quick…”

He didn’t seem to hear you, as if he was listening to something else. Or someone else. You noticed him mumbling words under his breath that you couldn’t quite hear.

“Sir?”

He blinked at you and his eyes seemed to focus on you. He didn’t answer and the staring was back.

“……Is there something I can help you with?”

“…No.”

It was your turn to blink at him. “…Are you having trouble sleeping? You seemed pretty out of it…”

“…………sleep walk…”

“Oh.” That made sense but he seemed suspicious with the way he answered that.

“…”

“…” You glanced away. “Uh, since we’re both up, would you like to eat something? I have some leftover spaghetti.” You offered.

His eyelights flickered for a moment. “……sure.”

You pulled yourself off the couch and stretched before walking into the kitchen. Checking your phone, it was 5am. At least you didn’t have work today. You pulled the spaghetti out of the fridge, put it in a bowl, and popped it in the microwave. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes as it spun.

“……You really aren’t scared.” Came the voice of your guest behind you. “What if I’m a murderer?”

You yawn. “I’d figure it out… besides, you’re pretty chill all things considered.”

“………You’re crazy.”

“So I’ve been told. I’m not crazy though. People my age just aren’t as relaxed as I am. I don’t see a reason to freak out over something so simple. You’re a guest. I’m a host. Simple as that.”

The only sound was the microwave “vrrr”ing until it finally reached 0:01. You popped it open before it could beep and offered the bowl and a fork to your guest.

He looked at it and then back at you. “……You’re not eating?”

Sigh. “I’m not hungry right now, it’s too early. And I only have one fork. So unless you’re up for sharing-”

He took the spaghetti and fork out of your hands and sat at the small table. His arms curled around the spaghetti as if he expected you to take it from him. Unfortunately, you couldn’t muster up enough energy to laugh but you still thought it was funny so you smirked. “You act like your brother steals your food.”

He glanced to the side and then back at you. “……Kind of.”

Sounded interesting. You sat at the table with a sigh. It seemed out of character for Papyrus to steal food. Especially from family. “How is Papyrus doing?”

“……” He glanced to the side again as if something caught his attention. “…He’s fine.”

You frowned. Odd. He almost sounded… sad. “…Did something happen?”

He shook his head and sat back, pushing the empty bowl away. “Nothing. Don’t ask about it.”

You watched him stand. “…Okay. I won’t push.” You picked up his dish and started washing it. “Feel free to do whatever until morning. Unless you want me to drive you home now? I’m okay with that if you-…” You turned around and he wasn’t there.

Maybe he’d gone back to bed.

You check your room and it’s empty. He’d vanished as if her was never there. The only proof you had were the dishes in your sink.

You rubbed at your eyes. It wasn’t worth stressing about. He probably teleported away while your back was turned. You went back to bed and slept in. Answers could wait until tomorrow.

[yandere-sins]

Prisoner #001

a/n: Jay! First request! I feel like Diluc makes a good starter for this, thank you for requesting and enjoy ♥

Fandom: Genshin Impact     Pairings: Yandere!Prisoner!Diluc x GN!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Catcalling/slutshaming, non-consensual touching/intimacy), Violence (TW Blood, Stabbing someone, Knives, lots of death mention but none on screen), Possessiveness, Long Post, Overprotectiveness, Manipulation, Breaking under the pressure

[Prison Project Introduction & How to request | Pinterest Moodboard]

"Be quiet."

A straightforward, understandable command, the voice so growly and commanding, you didn't dare to object. Your roommate lounging on the lower bed slowly closed his eyes again, seemingly unbothered by your presence as long as you didn't annoy him, and you most certainly wouldn't. Keeping your mouth shut, you averted your eyes quickly from the moody roommate, fixing them on the sparse amenities you two were given, like a small desk, chair, and behind a meager half-wall, barely shielded from the outside and your roommate, a toilet. You didn't feel like giving anyone a show, so you probably wouldn't use that one even if it would cause you sleepless nights.

A sigh shuddered off your lips as your mind finally came to understand the situation you were in. The place you were in.

Prison. Undeserved.

You didn't know who the judge was doing a favor by sentencing you for embezzling millions from the company you had only ever done deliveries for. But justice had not been served when you were pronounced guilty. That much was sure. Someone out there was celebrating getting away with millions while you had to fear for your life. God, this sucked. You'd have another month or so before you could appeal the case—if you made it that long.

Either way, there was little you could do now. Your eyes fell on the top bunk, then on the ladder in the back of the construct, right where the face of your roomie was. The last thing you'd do was speak up when he so clearly didn't want to talk; however, pushing your feet into the gaps would surely irritate him as well. But there was no alternative. You couldn't climb up any other way.

Holding back another sigh, you stepped towards the back of the cell, dark and stinky. Please don't move, you prayed over and over as you stepped up to the ladder, wearily glancing at the resting man beside you. How would you even avert an attack? You were infuriatingly helpless if anyone ever showed you how careless the guards were when it came to searching the prisoners. How little anyone cared if there were actual weapons inside this prison if they weren't out in the open.

Raising your chin, you looked to the entrance of your bunk, the bed encased with walls. Perhaps to avoid any more stabbings. It would be a tight squeeze inside, but you just hoped it didn't smell like piss in there like the rest of the prison. Pushing your extra clothes into the opening, you settled your foot on the first step, always looking at the man as long as the angle allowed.

You were almost inside when there was movement from below, panic rising as a hand grabbed your ankle with more strength than you could break away from.

Letting out a grunt, the grip tightened, then yanked you down. Next thing you knew, your head hit the ground; however, adrenaline blocked your body from feeling the pain. Hearing fabric rustling, you forced your eyes to snap open, sitting up to crouch backward as your roommate came to sit on the edge of his bed, peering down at you in an undefinable gaze.

"You don't belong here, do you?" he asked, the sound of a lighter clicking open, underlining his words sharply before a flame appeared in his hands. It was an odd question, but it fit the oddity of the man before you. Reaching up, he lit a cigarette, and you forced your eyes away from the light to look at him instead, his eyes drilling into you with the flame dancing in them. The red was like a hot blaze, his gaze burning you as he looked you up and down, smothering you with heat all throughout your body. Just before he closed the zippo in his hand, you gained a look at him too, infuriatingly handsome features mismatched with an indifferent sternness edged into his expression. But there was a passion gleaming in his eyes. One that you made you too afraid to ask him about.

"No," you admitted, gulping as you burned under his gaze. The sound vibrated through your head, making it ache. Pain returning to your senses, you grit your teeth as you reached up, relieved to find the wound dry even though it hurt like hell. You grunted in pain as you pressed into the spot, relieved to not find any hints of a concussion, luckily.

"Then why are you here?"

With a drag of his cigarette, your roommate didn't avert his gaze for even a moment, even when smoke dragged out of his mouth, collecting in the cell and itching in your nose. Well, at least it wasn't a blade pressed to your throat, and so far, he looked pretty decent for the kind of guy the guard tried to make him out to be.

"I got blamed. Someone stole millions, and the judge decided it must have been me. If you ask me, there was something really wrong with that decision." You couldn't help but sound sour, recalling what had happened, the words bubbling out of you now that someone genuinely asked for your version of the story.

"Sucks," he huffed, breathing out more smoke. That was more sympathy than anyone had shown you since you had to deal with this mess.

"How about you?" you asked, feeling emboldened by this conversation going so well. Evidently, you had a poor judge of character as your roommate suddenly stilled, his gaze cooling down regardless of the flames and smoke dancing in the reflection of his eyes.

"Look, stay out of my way, and you will be blessed not knowing what I did, okay? Just be quiet when you're in the cell."

And with that, disregarding that he caused the commotion, he settled back on his bed, sighing as he puffed out the last bit of smoke. Oh well. Peeling yourself off the ground, you were much quicker in ascending to the top bunk, catching your roomies' red eyes peering at you from below just as you disappeared inside. You never even got to ask his name, but at least the top bunk was... okay. Not ideal, but you felt a bit better being up here, hidden and shielded, than out there with him and his mood swings.

It was a real shame you couldn't stay inside forever, having to put yourself out there sooner rather than later.

«──────── 🗡♡ ︎𓍝 ────────»

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were all served in one cafeteria for all prisoners.

As much as you wanted to avoid it, the guard came back to escort you regardless of your protests so they could show you the way, a hint of hospitality despite the annoyance on their face. Luckily, Mister Grumpy and Handsome had already left when you finally slid out of your bunker, making your way to dinner. You may be able to get your mind off things with a few spoons of... hopefully edible things.

"Well, well, well. Look who survived the Butcher. You must have dazzled the Diluc Ragnvindr with your looks, Newbie, if you survived him," the first prisoner to spot you entering the large facility snarked from his table before taking a bite out of his sandwich. You grimaced at the aggressive stare he gave you as he took bite after bite like a hungry animal, others joining him in mockery.

"Spread your legs already? Damn, you're fast."

"Maybe they killed him?"

Eyes shot over to the neighboring table, half of the prisoners collected in the cafeteria now following the conversation upon noticing your arrival. And as if coordinated by them, they all burst out into laughter.

"Sure!" someone yelled from across the room. "Smothered in thighs!"

More laughter ensued, and the guard sighed, defeated, pushing you forward into the midst of hollering mouths and gawking eyes before leaving you all alone to fend for yourself. Delivering you to the cafeteria seemed to have been the expected amount of work they were willing to do, everything else fell beyond their responsibility and care.

Anxious, you stepped forward, spotting the food trays and the end of the queue, deciding to just quickly get your food and get out. But before you could reach out, so close to your goal once again, someone was quicker, throwing you off-balance as a prisoner, with only half of his teeth and more tattoos than eyebrows, grabbed you, pulling you towards him.

"Ya know, I'd be happy to show you my cell if yer uncomfortable with the Butcher. I can show you an even better time between my legs."

Stumbling, you grabbed the edge of the table while you were relentlessly tugged. "No way!" you exclaimed, horrified at the thought of anything so vile. Unfortunately, you knew you couldn't win in terms of strength. And to add to your suffering, so did the other prisoners.

Soon enough, you were crowded by them, fingers tangling in your hair and pulling back your neck, someone's nail cutting over your throat in a slicing motion while others admired your thighs and dug into them with their hands. You struggled and failed, and when you looked around for help, most of the eyes you met looked away or watched your misfortune with the curiosity of watching a new television show.

Your situation was hopeless.

You knew when the judge pronounced you guilty that this wouldn't end well. But it had been barely a few hours, and yet, you knew exactly how the rest of your sentence would look like. If only there had been someone to help you—anyone!—you might have had a nickel of a chance. But all you could do was close your eyes as more hands touched you, so many more dragging you down to hell.

"Hands. Off."

The voice was as cold and throat-cutting as it was familiar. A deep growl, followed by an anguished groan by the prisoner gripping your hair, suddenly letting go and crumbling to the ground behind you. Something warm splattered against the side of your cheek as a sloshing sound, followed by more groans, was to be heard. The other's eyes shot to the person standing behind you, first in anger for the interruption, then their expression dropped in panic.

Immediately, everyone let go, and in your confusion, you looked around their faces for answers before realizing the answer you were searching for was right behind you. Tensing, you slowly turned around, facing the fire-blazing red stare of, who you now knew as, Diluc Ragnvindr. Coming face to face with him in broad lightning was way more intimidating than before, him being tall and muscular and bloody.

You made the mistake of looking down, blood pooling around the prisoner on the ground. Directing your eyes further up, you saw Diluc's whole hand covered in the same red shade and the knife in his hand. His other hand shooting upwards, you flinched hard as he clamped his fingers around your chin, directing you to face him.

Moving your head side to side to check you, you shivered violently in his grasp, your brain still not registering what had just happened. But Diluc remained perfectly composed, his thumb reaching up to wipe away the liquid that had splattered on your cheek before. "If anyone--" he drawled, thumb wiping over and over against your cheek, his eyes growing grimmer the longer he had to do it. "--touches you again..."

Then, he directed his gaze away from you, back over your shoulder. You heard chairs being pushed aside and bodies moving away. "Stab them," Diluc finished his instruction, holding out the knife to you, handle first. You blinked a few times, unmoving, and he sighed, dropping it. Instinctively and regretfully, you caught it. For the first time, he grunted in approval before directing his voice to everyone.

Only now did you notice it was dead silent in the whole room, everyone watching. "Just to be clear," Diluc said, raising his voice for everyone to hear. "This one's hands off. They're mine." Below you, the stabbed prisoner grunted in pain, and you peeked down, watching as more and more blood collected on the linoleum floor.

"Oh my god," you whispered, obviously directed at the fact someone was bleeding out on your shoes with the weapon in your hand.

"That would be an exaggeration," Diluc answered as if you had been talking to him instead. As if this was a situation to joke about. Glancing up again, the corners of his mouth jerked upwards for just a second, though the smile never reaches his now deadly eyes fixated on you. The fire had finally been smothered by something else, something dark. Brandishing. Possessive.

It gave you goosebumps all over.

"Make sure to eat," he reminded you. "And take off your shoes before entering the cell."

Dumbfounded by his nonchalant words, you only flinched back into reality when guards finally stormed inside, yelling, "RAGNVINDR!" from across the room. His grip on you tightened before he sighed, looking like he was inconvenienced more by the interruption than the fact he just stabbed someone. His thumb stroked over your cheek once more, this time gently, as if its only purpose was to caress and comfort. Diluc only let go when he was grabbed by the shoulders and thrown to the dirty floor next to the bleeding man.

More guards assembled, and together they apprehended and dragged Diluc out of the room, his gaze on you until the end, finding you even through all the guards swarming him. Once he was out the door, they carried away the poor guy on the floor, his wounds hopefully not fatal even though he treated you like shit.

"Drop it," one guard hissed at you. Only now did you remember the knife, letting it fall immediately and jumping away to escape the blade threatening to go through your foot. "Way to go, Newbie," the guard huffed, shaking his head like a disappointed dad.

Once they were gone, the silence was deafening. You could feel the gears in your head turn, the blood rushing through you, but time seemed to stand still until the other prisoners began to return to what they were doing before all of this. It wasn't the same for you. You never were a big fan of gory horror movies; you never really saw that much blood—much less real blood—before. The thought of food was anything but appetizing to you now, not with blood on your feet, hand, and, as you learned later from looking into a bathroom mirror, face. Diluc's words echoed in your mind, but they were fading as you felt your stomach twist and gurgle, unwilling to even consider the prison food served here.

"Psycho," someone muttered next to you, and you didn't know if you liked the look everyone was giving you now. It no longer was mockery or belittling, oh no. They looked at you as if you were the monster who just stabbed someone. Being feared inevitably was better than being a laughingstock, but how did you always end up taking the blame for these situations?

Without another thought, you left, rather going hungry than risking vomiting everything once your brain realized all the gruesome things that just happened. Instead, you hid in a bathroom stall, the shock finally snapping your head back into its place, causing you to dry heave the stress and shivers out of your system before putting your head under cold water, hoping it would rid you of the images in your head and return your clear mind.

Your reflection was pitiful, the horror written all over your face. It took a long time to scrub the stranger's blood off your skin, and you had to see the bloody shoeprints you left in your race to get to the bathroom on the way back to your cell. Just as you were about to step in, you halted, remembering Diluc's words. Reaching down, you untied your shoe, your hands slowing the further you got. By the time you stepped out of your boots, you realized he had already crept his way into your subconscious, causing havoc to your feelings.

You were scared. There was no denying that. You were scared of his reaction if you disobeyed. Scared of what other unpredictable things he could do after you had to witness him stab someone... for your sake?

"This one's hands off. They're mine," he had claimed. Since when? How? Why?

All questions you wanted to know but feared to ask. Just like you feared disobeying him. Instead, you put your shoes under the table, peeling out of the orange overalls before climbing into your bunk. At least here, you felt somewhat safe. Safe enough to finally let go of the tears you had held back, your arms hugging yourself tightly as you wrapped yourself in your blanket.

And even though you knew nothing would change, you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping for this nightmare to end when you opened them again.

«──────── 🗡♡ ︎𓍝 ────────»

It was already incredibly late when your cell door screeched open, heavy footsteps dragging towards the bed. You couldn't find even a minute of sleep despite being exhausted after such a day. Instead, you had dozed in your bed, the sound jerking you wide awake.

"Next time, behave, Diluc," a very smooth but icy voice spoke before the door was slammed shut and locked for the night. You stiffened as you heard Diluc grunt, clothes rustling, and you assumed he was doing the same as you, not wanting to get dirt into bed. You expected to feel the movement of his body settling into the bunk below you any second now, hoping he wouldn't say anything to you that you'd have to answer. He told you to be quiet, and so you were.

But instead of both of you settling for the night, your quietness only added to the silence suddenly spreading through the cell. You couldn't even hear him breathe, only your heartbeat racing in your ears as you felt goosebumps run over your skin as if you were being watched. And then, something truly terrifying made sure you'd not sleep one bit that night.

Even if the sound was subtle, you heard him grip the iron ladder to the top bunk. Had to listen to the slight shiver of breath as he lifted himself up on the steps. Felt the additional weight press down on your mattress.

You didn't say anything, didn't move, didn't breathe. Your back was turned to the entrance, and you didn't even allow your eyes to shift in the darkness, fearing what you would see. Was he going to hurt you? Kill you? Get even for what he must have endured with the guards? Was the same bloody mess the guard had told you about going to happen again?

One arm snaked over your midriff, fingers brushing upwards, the warmth of his palm dancing over your collarbones. Your breathing was ragged, faltering every time you felt him move, not knowing what his next step would be.

Diluc's body, smothering heat surrounded by skin, pressed against you. You were kept in a firm hold, and even if you had been asleep before, you never felt more awake and alert now.

"Breathe," he grunted, and you tensed up even more. How did he know?

"You wouldn't be holding your breath if you were sleeping."

"Ah." That explained it. Of course. Fuck, you were an idiot.

 "As if I'm going to hurt you after getting beaten up for you the last few hours."

Diluc let out a heavy sigh, his head falling forward to rest against you. You shifted under his arm, trying to give him some space. If bruises were forming on his body, it must have agitated him to be squeezed between you and the encasing on the bunk. However, when he noticed you scoot away, he tightened his grip, dragging you back and into him with barely any effort needed. "Does it hurt a lot?" you asked timidly, and he huffed.

"If you mean getting stabbed, then yeah. That was supposed to hurt a lot. I, for my part, will not complain about a few gut punches and knuckles to my face."

His body kept slumping forward until you were the only resistance in his way. It was an odd, uncomfortable situation, but who were you to say anything? You feared him, even though he seemed less fearsome when he was exhausted like this. "Can I ask something?" you piped up, disregarding the 'be quiet' rule from when you first met. He'd probably tell you if he didn't feel like talking anymore, so you took your chance.

Diluc grunted, "Go ahead," as he rubbed his face into your shoulder. Just as you wanted to open your mouth, he hissed, having hit a sore spot, and you stilled, tensing as if you had done something wrong. Communicating with him was still as weird and confusing as it had been when he pulled you from the ladder. You never knew what you were allowed and not allowed to do in his presence, fearing any misstep you could make. And yet, somehow, you had grown closer without you even realizing. Silence raked its claws through the cell until he eventually repeated himself, pinching you as if to wake you up.

"Speak up."

"Why..." you stopped, thinking of how to convey your thoughts into words. Taking a deep breath, you collected as much confidence as you could, bumping your fist into the mattress to encourage yourself. "Why did you help me?"

"Someone bad hurt someone very dear to me," he finally muttered after a tense few seconds of thoughtfulness. "And I hurt a lot of their people in return."

"Oh," you whispered, not expecting that kind of talk. In fact, you had no idea what you expected, but certainly not an explanation that Diluc hadn't wanted to give you before. "But--"

"They want to use you," Diluc interrupted you as you were about to ask what that had to do with you. "Before you, my roommate was swayed by the offer to have their sentence reduced. They used his vulnerability to try and get revenge on me. Death. Painful and bloody, and worse than what you saw today."

Gulping, you remembered the guard telling you how they had to scrub the remains of the last roommate off the walls of this cell. "And you think they'll do it again?" you whispered, shuddering. The last thing you wanted was to be caught up in yet another feud. And yet, you felt like you were already a part of it.

"I know they will."

"So you got to me first."

"Yes."

Feeling his hand wandering upwards until it lodged in the crook of your neck, fingers digging around your throat, you gasped, clawing at him as he cut off your air supply. "I don't think I need to tell you what will happen if they offer you a deal to get you out if you get rid of me. Surely, you don't plan to kill me in my sleep, right?"

Gasping, you shook your hand as much as his hold allowed, Diluc's fingers tightening once before releasing you. Coughing, you felt tears burn in your eyes again, the sudden fear you had felt after your return to the cell burning up again. You had been careless, misjudging him again. Even after hearing it from Diluc himself, you forgot that he had no qualms about getting rid of things in his way.

"Good. Otherwise, those pigs would have eaten you for dinner. Don't forget you owe me. You can't trust anyone that gets close to you here."

"Then... what about you?" It took some clearing of your throat to present the question, but with your hands wrapped around your neck, you felt a little more safe and protected.

"You'll just have to learn to trust me."

His fingers ghosted over yours, noticing how you were shielding yourself and causing Diluc to let out a husky laugh. Instead, he gripped your chin, yanking your head to the side so you'd face him. When he spoke again, you could barely see his mouth move in the dark but felt his breath caress your lips in secretive whispers.

"I'll protect you. I’ll keep you safe as long as you hold up your end of the bargain. If you want to survive, I am your best choice to give your trust to. And I take very good care of what's mine."

"Why do you keep saying that?" you shuddered, feeling the brush of his lips, his fingers digging into your skin painfully, but you didn't dare look away from the red burning through the darkness. His eyes were eager to see, witness every shudder going through you, and roam over your face as if it was a map to your soul even in the dark. Perhaps his vision was much better than yours. Still, even you could see the genuine determination in his eyes that echoed through his words.

"Because it's true. The moment you stepped into this prison, you became mine."

"I never agreed to that," you protested meekly.

"You didn't have to."

"Don't you think that's unfair? Don't I get a choice?" you complained, feeling defeated by the direction of the conversation. Sure, his promise of protection sounded good but claiming you as something you weren't seemed to finally cross your boundaries.

"Darling," Diluc said soothingly. Yet it only raised goosebumps to hear him use such an affectionate nickname for you. The way his voice changed into a low, reverent breath was only drowned out by the confidence dripping off his lips every time he spoke. He was so sure of himself, never stuttering as he relayed his conviction.

"They blamed you for a crime you didn't do just to get to me. They bribed a judge just to get to me. They sent you to this godforsaken pisshole of a prison because of me."

You shuddered as Diluc laid out the facts so obviously, you had to realize he spoke the truth. This was worse than the nightmare you had gone through so far, deeper than what you thought this wrong guilty verdict had been. Someone chose you for a suicide mission because of a vendetta from the same man sharing your bed right now.

"Thinking about it, you were mine long before you came here," Diluc conducted. Then, you felt warm, soft lips press to yours, a struggle ensuing as you tried to defend yourself, but Diluc was stronger. A jolt of pain jerked through you as he bit your lip, relishing in the drops of blood appearing as he licked over it.

"No," you sobbed quietly, tears trickling from your eyes. What you were saying no to, you weren't sure. No to the reality, you didn't want to face. No to having to accept something so absurd it could only be true. No to his treatment, the kiss, the stabbing Diluc did for you.

His other hand reached up with a grunt from him, wiping over the lashes of your eyes squeezed shut. "Don't cry," he whispered, almost pleading with you. "I told you I'll treat you well. I'm sorry for what happened to you, but you're safe with me. I'll protect you and make sure these other guys won't get to you."

Sobbing a bit louder, Diluc hushed you, cupping your face so gently you couldn't believe he had stabbed someone with that hand just hours prior.

"I don't want this," you sniffled. "I never asked for any of this!"

"I know," he sympathized, and you gulped, feeling like those were empty words. You'd be right. Even though it felt as if you two were getting closer, Diluc unveiled something much worse than a knife to end you, his sympathy vanishing into thin air.

Instead, he stabbed you with his words worse than any knife could, ensuring your death would be as painful and awful as humanly possible. You saw the hints of a pitying smile on his lips before he opened them, the disgusting pleasure of a psycho showing in the softness of his gaze on you. A psycho that had found something to protect and keep in a world that had been way too harsh on him. You, on the other hand, felt your world collapse like a house of cards as he blew his words in your face, showing you no compassion whatsoever as he slapped the truth across your cheeks harder than any punch would.

"But you don't really have a choice, do you?"

No.

You never had any choice to begin with in any of this.

And even worse, he was right—you had to rely on him. Because if not Diluc, someone else would come for you. Another prisoner, or these mysterious people he mentioned, once you refused to get their revenge on Diluc for them. How would you even do that?

It was hopeless. Every inch of your being was violently refusing him and his offer. But you had to if you wanted to survive. You had no other choice, no alternatives to rely on. There was no Plan B when you never even had a Plan A. Diluc was your Plan P for protection. You'd have to trust him, a broken stranger, to make sure you wouldn't end up as the blood splattered to the walls the guards would have to clean.

"O-Okay," you whispered, your voice breaking just like your heart did.

"Good choice," he murmured, forehead bumping to yours before Diluc slumped back into the space behind you. Building trust would take a long time, you were sure, as you felt his hand grab your wrists, pinning them down to the space in front of you. It might have been a good choice for the moment.

But would it be the right one?

[aquitainequeen]

Further bits and pieces of worldbuilding that I really liked in Furiosa (the previous post have gotten rather long)

One of the first shots of the film is trees being detroyed by a shock wave, and later as the raiders escape with Furiosa we see the edges of the Green Place eroding into the desert; a sign of what's to come. And zooming in from space, this paradise is so terribly small...

Furiosa knows how to disable a motorcycle, but still marvels at the petrol pouring over her hand.

There's a brief moment where someone is using a satellite dish as a cooking pot!

Toe Jam and his companion automatically assume that it's Furiosa's father tracking them, not her parents; certainly not her mother.

The first thing the Organic Mechanic does whenever he meets someone new is to check their fingers and teeth to see what kind of health they're in; he does this later with the Lone War Boy, without even being told to do so by Dementus.

When his followers get too rowdy, Dementus calls them off with a whistle - they are his hounds too.

Dementus orders for their best drinking water to be used to wash Furiosa; an immediate sign of how valuable he considers her to be.

I have a theory about the Organic Mechanic serving human blood sausage (the jury is out on whether he was actually drawing Furiosa's blood or whether he was bluffing in front of Immortan Joe). He doesn't yet have the resources to safely do blood transfusions, so this is a simplified way of trying to keep Dementus healthy and strong!

There are wind turbines on the top of the Citadel, but we don't see them move; a shallow echo of the turbines in the Green Place.

The power dynamics in Dementus' horde; the Mortiflyers answer to the Octoboss, who calmly tells them to comply; compare this with Dementus' posturing...

Immortan Joe is the only one during negotiations to speak directly to Furiosa, asking her questions and getting answers from her - yet we never see him speak to any of the women in his harem. When one of them gives birth to a mutated baby he turns and departs without a word, leaving Scrotus to pass sentence on her.

I've commented before on how unsettling it is that Furiosa's given a little cubby of her own with a lamp and books and a bed, and how it all looks so normal. The whole setup of the harem is unnerving. Down in the depths of the Citadel everything is scavenged and mismatched; @cinemaocd noticed that the 'bunks' that Furiosa and Jack are sleeping on later in the film are actually repurposed lounge chairs. Even later on, when the People Eater is plotting battles, he uses salvaged objects to represent the armies. But up in the harem everything is preserved, clean and kept for its original purpose, from the chairs and chalkboard to the stacks of books and the ordinary (if not necessarily comfy) beds. Like the Green Place, the harem is recognisable and normal, a series of rooms you could well imagine in our universe...but it's a manufactured paradise rather than a natural one, a false 'haven' and a real prison for so many women.

[humanpurposes]

It Will Come Back

Chapter 2, Superficial

Two sides of a family fight for their own claims to the Targaryen inheritance. Amongst the endless infighting, forced pleasantries and PR scandals, Jaya Velaryon finds herself face to face with a demon of her past, namely Aemond Targaryen. Love and hate are not emotions easily unlearned.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x Jaya Velaryon (OFC)

Warnings: 18+, dark elements, targcest (uncle x niece relationship) toxic family dynamics, angst, violence, blood

Words: 8029

A/n: Also available to read on AO3, if you're that way inclined.

Two months later…

Jaya sat against the headboard of her bed, flicking the old silver lighter open and close, watching the flame flicker and die, over and over again. 

A synthy 80s song played through the speaker on the dresser as her cousins fussed in front of the mirror on her vanity. They were rummaging through their makeup bags, applying shimmering eyeshadows and rich red blush with their fingers.

The whole summer was ahead of them and Rhaenyra had insisted on starting the season with a garden party, primarily to celebrate the twins. Jace was a little anxious about his impending exam results, but Jaya was sure she had done well– a remarkable feat given how distracted she had been lately.

She closed the lighter and let her thumb rest on the engraving of the three-headed dragon.

If she thought hard enough, she could still taste Aemond on her tongue.

She had always thought her first kiss would be intense, like the way it was in movies, music swelling, two mouths crashing together out of love and desperation, unable to hold back after wanting something for so long.

It had been intense, but not as overwhelming as she thought it would be. It was softer, wetter, clumsier. It felt simple, like a firm hand on her waist, like an unashamed glance across a crowded room, like an embrace. It felt like a natural extension of something that had already been there, a different action with the same intent. 

She found her mind replaying that moment an awful lot, in front of the mirror as she got ready for school, while her friends droned on about drama that seemed so trivial to her now, as her eyes moved over a textbook when she was alone in her room.

It was most vivid in the quiet space between waking and sleeping, when she was curled in on herself under her thin bed sheets, resting a hand on her stomach and pretending it was his. She could still feel it then, the hot air of his room, his body pressed into her back, the shape of his lips and the movements of his mouth against her neck, the way she shuddered at his fingertips trailed down, just below her navel but never further.

Sometimes her mind would imagine more than she remembered. She could picture it so easily in her head, his hand slipping underneath the hem of her underwear, his fingers teasing over the heat between her legs, all while he kissed her neck, dragging his teeth over her skin and letting out little pants and grunts… 

But that was wrong. So fucking wrong.

Years ago, when they were children, Aegon used to joke that she and Aemond were in love.

She remembered playdates, family get togethers and formal events, spending the entire time by Aemond’s side. Everything they did, they did together, exploring the gardens of Dragonstone and climbing the apple trees at Queen’s Lodge, playing with dolls and flicking through books, hiding in quiet corners and exchanging secrets.

She remembered sleepovers, when all the kids would bunk together in the lounge, and she and Aemond would never fail to find their way into each other’s arms. She remembered having her head on his chest, clinging onto him like she wanted to be beneath his skin, letting his heartbeat lull her to sleep.

She remembered being small and looking up at Aegon, thinking she could never possibly catch up to his height. “You could get away with that a few hundred years ago. Our family used to be famous for it you know, marrying cousins, brothers and sisters, uncles and nieces.”

At the time she didn’t really know what he meant. She just knew she wanted to be close to Aemond.

It had taken Aemond two days to call her after the party. He was always the one to reach out first and she would only have to wait. She spent those forty or so hours with an unrelenting headache and a twisting feeling in her stomach. She was so anxious that she had done something wrong and the pessimist in her worried she might never hear from him again.

He finally called on the Sunday, in the evening, after she had eaten dinner with her family. He asked if Alysanne was alright and she told him what she knew, that Jace had taken her home and Sabby had spent the night with her. Alysanne maintained that she had enjoyed her evening.

“And what about you, Zaldrīzītsos?” Aemond had asked.

She could hear the sound of his breathing on the other end of the line, waiting for her to respond. She looked down at her hands where she sat on the bed, curling her fist around the duvet and digging her thumbnail into her skin.

She felt cold and a little nauseous. She felt restless and unsure. She wanted to feel him again and she knew it was wrong.

“I’m fine,” she muttered.

He would have known she was lying but he didn’t press her any further, and the kiss was not mentioned at all.

She hadn’t seen Aemond and Aegon as frequently over the last couple of months, but that was to be expected over exam season. Aemond had a habit of shutting himself away from the world when he wanted to focus on something. Jaya’s approach to exams was a little less intensive, but she knew she didn’t need any extra distractions.

The moment Aemond’s exams had finished they had gone back to being on friendly terms again. He texted her daily, called her several times a week, but she hadn’t seen him since the party, and suddenly “friendly” didn’t feel like it was enough.

The sound of Baela’s voice made her jump. “Are you getting ready or what?” she asked, eyeing her through the mirror.

Jaya firmly flicked the lighter shut again and placed it on her bedside table as she shuffled off the bed.

‘The Daemon Targaryens’ as they were affectionately known by the rest of the family, had a house between King’s Landing and Driftmark. Jaya saw plenty of uncle Daemon; he was often in town for work, spending his weekdays in his apartment at the Red Keep and occasionally coming for dinner at Queen’s Lodge. She had seen less of Baela and Rhaena since they left Peremore’s, being two years older than her and Jace. Baela had gone to Pentos to study International Relations and Rhaena was training at the Sunspear Ballet School in Dorne, but they always came back for summer.

People had often told Jaya that she and Jace were a more obvious pair of twins than the Targaryen girls. She had their mother’s soft, rounded face compared to his strong, sharp jaw, but they had the same brown curls, the same hazel eyes, the same nose, the same smile, the same pouty frown, the same stubbornness. 

Despite looking incredibly alike when they were children, Baela and Rhaena’s features differed to the point where they hardly looked like siblings. Baela’s eyes were violet and sharp like Daemon’s while Rhaena’s eyes were wide and doe-like like Laena’s. Baela was short and strong, Rhaena was tall, graceful and lean, built like a dancer. Baela kept her silver hair cropped close to her head, and Rhaena’s was usually in braids or locks.

For the evening, Baela had opted for a blue silk shirt, offhandedly tucked into brown dress pants. She liked bold eyeliner, dark lipstick, heavy gold jewellery and black boots.

Rhaena looked like she had stepped out of the pages of a fairytale. She wore a dress she had found in a vintage shop in Dorne, pale pink, covered with floral patterns and rhinestones with a wide, flowing skirt. Her silver hair was brought into a perfect ballet bun and her accessories tended to feature pearls and flowers plated with silver.

They both looked incredible, and here Jaya was, still in the shorts and t-shirt she had changed into after her shower, with only half an hour to go before the guests would start arriving.

She had something specific in mind, a white summer dress with flared sleeves and fitted, flattering top. The sleeves and the skirt floated around her as she moved and glanced at her reflection in the mirror and the windows. She felt ethereal and fleeting, “like a ghost,” Rhaena said.

“White?” Baela said with a quirked eyebrow. “Aren’t you worried you’ll spill wine on it?”

Jaya tried not to grin as she finished her makeup with some sheer lipgloss. “I’ll just be very, very careful,” she said.

The house was ready for guests, empty of any clutter or indication that it was actually inhabited by their family. There was a lot of noise coming from the kitchen and by the front door, Steffon Darklyn, Rhaenyra’s head of security, was muttering to a few members of staff. They passed through the conservatory, a room of red sofas, vintage rugs and potted plants, with a tall glass ceiling and French doors that led out to the patio.

The garden looked like something from a wedding catalogue, a picturesque scene of fairy lights, candles, canopies, tables covered in white tablecloths, bouquets of red and white roses. A charming instrumental hummed somewhere in the background, waiters waltzed between tables with canapes on silver platters as the guests sipped on champagne and red wine.

There were plenty of interesting guests, the Celtigars, the Bar Eammons, even Jeyne Arryn had made an appearance, some distant cousin of her mother’s. She noticed some of the board members were present too, Jasper Wylde, Lymon Beesbury, Tyland Lannister. One by one, they went to greet Rhaenyra.

Her mother was a vision of silver and red, her long hair pinned away from her face and cascading down the back of a designer dress. She shook each guest by the hand, embraced them warmly, then smiled. It was a routine she had picked up from Viserys, he knew how to make people feel like they were his friends.

Daemon and Laena hovered beside her, taking sips from champagne coupes. Daemon was a little more transparent with his reluctance for formalities. He had more of a practical approach to business, head of the bank’s legal team, despite the lack of qualifications. He shook Lymon Beesbury’s hand and only spared a smug glare for Wylde and Lannister. 

“Oh look!” Rhaena cooed, pointing towards the orchard. Sunset was still a few hours away but the light was dimming. Jaya and Balea turned and sighed at the sight of the fairy lights that had been strung around the branches and the tree trunks.

“It’s going to look so beautiful once night falls,” Rhaena said.

The first thing they did was find the boys. Luke and Joffrey had found themselves a table at the very edge of the party, and poor Jace had been cornered by Jeyne Arryn and a few of their mother’s friends. When Jaya went to save him she was roped into the same conversation she was about to have all night. “Hello darling, don’t you look pretty and grown up? How’s school– oh no, you’re finished now, aren’t you? When do you get your results? Still set on KLU? What was it you wanted to study?” Responding to them was making her brain feel numb.

She heard a bit of a fuss being made over the arrival of the next guests, Corlys and Rhaenys Velaryon. They stood just outside the doorway for a moment, Corlys in a teal suit and Rhaenys in a silver gown that tastefully matched the grey streaks in her otherwise black hair.

Jaya grabbed Jace’s hand. “Excuse us,” she said with a smile and brought him with her to join their mother as she welcomed their grandparents.

The Velaryons had a history that intertwined with the Targaryens, descending from a line that led across the Narrow Sea to Old Valyria. Corlys liked to say he built his business from the ground up, but the truth was it was built on family connections and the small fortune that came with marrying Rhaenys Baratheon. But what did it matter, the story he told? People revered him all the same, the CEO of the largest shipping company on the continent, an esteemed member of the board of directors of Dragon Bank, with links to some of the most prominent families in the country.

Suddenly she wondered where her father had got to. 

Corlys and Rhaenyra were in good spirits, laughing over a joke Jaya and Jace had just missed. Rhaenys was holding Laena’s hands in hers, asking about the girls and everything else there was to catch up on.

Corlys’ face lit up when he saw the twins. Of course, it was ridiculous to think that a grandfather would play favourites, but sometimes she wondered if she was Corlys’ favourite. A giant of a man, he hugged them both tightly, while Rhaenys met them only with a polite peck on the cheek. 

He asked the dreaded question of exam results.

“A few more days,” Rhaenyra said, “but it’s not as though we’re worried.”

“Good, that’s what I like to hear,” Corlys said. “Jace, your mother tells me you have plans of going to White Harbour?”

“Yeah,” Jace said, though he did not sound entirely convinced himself. “I’ve applied for communications, but they have a lot of optional modules. I was thinking about doing some classes in drama or business or something.”

“Well, the world needs communicators,” Rhaenys said rather dryly.

Daemon snickered. Laena tapped his arm to make him stop.

“What about you, Jaya?”

“I’m set on KLU,” she said. “PPH.” Politics, Philosophy and History, the same as Aemond. In her mind there had never been another possibility.

This Rhaenys seemed a little more impressed by.

“Set on changing the world, are we?” Corlys said.

Jaya smiled somewhat performatively. “We’ll see.”

“She’s always had big ambitions,” Rhaenyra said. She smoothed her hand over Jaya’s head, like she used to do when she was little, and pressed a light kiss to her temple. “My smart girl.”

Corlys, Rhaenys, Laena and Daemon all smiled. Jace hummed and glanced down at his sneakers.

She went to the bar before she joined the others at the table. She asked for a gin and lemonade with lots of ice. Sweet and cold, it went down easily and gave her something to do with her hands, a hard surface to tap her nail against should she start to feel nervous.

Laenor was still nowhere to be found. People would start to notice, maybe they would ask questions.

When she came back to the table, Baela and Rhaena were laughing with Luke and Joffrey. Jace was a little removed from the others, slouched back in his chair, fiddling with a piece of silver cutlery laid out on the table.

She sat beside him and offered him some of her drink. He shook his head with his brows furrowed and his lips pressed tightly together. 

“What’s wrong with you?” she said, realising how accusatory she had sounded. The gin was probably to thank for that, so she placed her glass down on the table. Besides, it was nearly empty.

Jace tilted his head and looked at her, sad or angry, she couldn’t really tell.

“I don’t know if I did enough to get into White Harbour,” he muttered.

They’d had this conversation before. He could never say why he was so sure he wasn’t going to get in, but it was just nerves, surely. He was getting in his head, overthinking it.

Jaya placed her hand on his shoulder. In a way it felt strange to see him like this when he was usually so self-assured, or at least he acted like it. “There’s nothing that you can do now. If you stress about it or you don’t, the outcome isn’t going to change. So you might as well stop beating yourself up about it.”

“Yeah, well, we can’t all be perfect like you.”

That made her pause.

Jace could be serious and stubborn, and he liked to act like he knew better than her, but he was a sweet person really. He had a natural charm, people were drawn to him and found him easy to like. But there were these little moments, like the party at Maegor’s Square, like now, when he could be so spiteful. 

Why? What had she done to prompt it now?

Jaya huffed in disbelief. “I’m not perfect,” she said.

Jace tutted. Anger flashed over his face, she could see it, and he moved his mouth as if to say something but stopped himself.

He leaned back in his chair. “Doesn’t matter. You don’t get it.”

“What don’t I get?”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

Hot tears stung her eyes, but she wasn’t going to cry, not in the middle of a fucking party. 

She glanced up and saw Baela looking at them.

“Look, if you’re really worried, there’s things you can do. You can appeal, you can go through clearing, you can do a foundation year or, I don’t know, figure something else out altogether.”

Jace glared at her expectantly.

“You don’t have to go to uni straight away,” she said. “Maybe take some time to figure out what you want.”

Jace folded his arms. “It’s fine. I spoke to mum about it. She said there’s nothing we can do until we get the actual results. But once we know, well, arrangements can be made.”

Jaya frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Look at who we are, Jay. Look at who are family is. Between mum, Viserys and Corlys, I can figure something out.”

“Buy your way into White Harbour, you mean?” Jaya said. Of all the places to buy your way into?

“It’s not like that,” Jace huffed.

“No? What is it like then?”

Jace chuckled bitterly to himself and went back to fiddling with a polished dining knife. Jaya pressed her nails into her palm. She hated it when Jace was like this, when he tried to pretend he knew more than she ever would. But she knew more than he gave her credit for. She knew how to get under his skin.

“You’d be no better than Aegon, you know?” she said, softly and simply.

Jace stared at her, and she stared back, her mouth not quite in a smile, her eyebrows raised in false innocence.

“He didn’t get the grades for KLU. Otto had to buy him a place. Now look at him, he’s been there four years and what has he got to show for it?”

“Oh but I thought you worshipped uncle Aegon,” Jace sneered.

“I don’t worship him.” She felt like a child when she said it.

“But you follow him like a fucking dog. Aemond too, you were all over him at that party.”

Her stomach dropped. “I was not,” she said in a small voice. They both knew she was lying. 

Jace leaned into her. “Don’t you fucking dare compare me to him, to either of them,” he hissed. “They’re not good people, Jay, and you know it. You saw what Aegon did to Alysanne that night and you let it happen. They’re fucking desperate, the whole lot of them.” 

Something else caught his attention. He was looking behind her, towards the patio and the glass doors to the conservatory.

Viserys had arrived, and the air suddenly felt cold.

His wife, Alicent, as beautiful as ever with her big brown eyes and her full lips poised in a gentle smile, entered beside him, clinging onto his arm. She was an image of radiance tonight, light catching in her auburn curls, the silky fabric of her sage green dress and the gold necklace on her collar. 

Sometimes Jaya wondered why Viserys had bothered to remarry all those years ago, and why he had chosen a wife so much younger than him. Alicent was eighteen when she got married, the same age Jaya was now, and nineteen when she had her first baby. 

She was followed by her father, Otto Hightower, Viserys’ stoic right-hand man, tall, thin and dressed immaculately. Then by a man with dark hair and stubble in a grey suit. Jaya had seen him at the Red Keep and remembered him as Criston Cole, Alicent’s personal head of security.

Then came the four siblings with silver hair; Aegon, for once in a shirt and not a white tank top and tracksuit bottoms; Helaena, in a pretty pale blue dress and large butterfly earrings; Daeron, in a cobalt blue shirt and black jeans; and the last to walk through the glass doors was Aemond.

Excitement ignited under Jaya’s skin. Usually seeing Aemond made her happy, though seeing him now felt somewhat terrifying.

But there was no reason for it. He was dressed in all black, one hand in the pocket of his slacks, a suit jacket slung over his shoulder. His short hair was styled neatly and swept away from his face. He was scowling, casting a seething, sceptical gaze over the scenery and the guests. Nothing unusual.

Behind them came Lyonel Strong, and his son, Larys. 

The twins simultaneously held their breath, waiting for another man to join them, but the face they were searching for did not appear.

Jaya quickly glanced towards her mother. Rhaenyra smiled softly, and went to greet Lyonel and Larys directly. It seemed like a warm welcome, but she could tell when her mother’s moves were calculated. There were eyes everywhere here, and she couldn’t be seen to be on such icy terms with the Strongs.

“Oh shit,” Jace whispered under his breath. “What are they doing here?”

In the first few minutes of their arrival, between making his own greetings of the guests, Viserys kept looking back to speak to Lyonel, and not Otto, which struck her as unusual.

“He’s back at Dragon Bank?” she wondered aloud. Rhaenyra hadn’t mentioned anything about it, and usually she kept her eldest children updated on the developments of the family business. Dragon Bank was more of an empire, one which spanned centuries. It mattered who was involved, and who wasn’t.

She hadn’t heard much about Lyonel Strong since his son Harwin left the company and moved back to Harrenhal, according to rumours and the gossip magazines.

They didn’t have much more time to speculate before the four Targaryen siblings were heading towards their table. Aegon led the pack, arms wide open, a glass of champagne in his hand already.

“Jacey boy!”

“I’m getting a fucking drink,” Jace grumbled and marched towards the bar, but not before Aegon managed to ruffle his hair. 

She caught Baela’s eye again and turned her head away, hoping she’d take the hint. Instead she came and sat beside her.

“What’s his problem?” Baela muttered as the others joined them. Daeron and Aegon sat with Luke and Joffrey, while Helaena sat beside Jaya. Aemond tentatively lowered himself into the chair beside his sister.

Jaya reached for her glass and downed the rest of her drink. It only tasted of sugar and lemons and she wanted another one. “Where do you want to start?” she said.

Jace eventually returned from the bar with a bottle of beer, just as Rhaenyra announced that dinner was about to be served. Seeing he had been displaced, Jace sat with Rhaena.

Waiters came and placed fish dishes, summer salads and bottles of fine white burgundy and chablis on the table before them. She only picked at the food and allowed herself one glass of wine. The last thing any of them needed tonight was for things to get out of hand.

It had been a while since she had seen Helaena. She had spent the last three years in Highgarden but she had graduated a few weeks ago. Alicent had sent photos.

She turned to Helaena, who often had her eyes on her plate or nowhere at all. She kept catching Aemond’s gaze and tried not to smile.

“How are you finding being back home?” she asked.

Helaena’s eyes went wide and she sighed heavily. “I miss having my own space.”

Between their apartment at the Red Keep and their weekends spent at Dragonstone, Jaya guessed space shouldn’t have been much of an issue, especially now that Aegon and Aemond weren’t living with them.

Jaya followed Helaena’s gaze as she looked at her parents, sat with Rhaenyra, and sighed again.

“I don’t often feel happy at home,” Helaena said.

A chill slipped slowly down her spine, a sudden wave of sadness. She caught Aemond’s eye again. He looked solemn now, but was half distracted by Aegon and Baela as they started to argue about politics over the table.

“I don’t suppose you were supposed to tell me that,” Jaya muttered.

“No, not really,” Helaena said, looking down at her fingers. She went to pick at her lavender nail polish but suddenly snatched her hands into her lap and hummed to herself. 

Jaya placed a hand over Helaena's. “I’m glad you did.”

With a quick breath, Helaena seemed fine again, her eyes so much more alert than they were before. “I’m going back to Highgarden in September to start a PhD– did I tell you about that yet?”

Jaya smiled through the brief bewilderment and the rapid changes in topic. “Um, no, actually, I didn’t know you were doing PhD.”

“Oh, I thought Aemond might have told you,” Helaena said.

Aemond turned to them again at the sound of his name. “My mistake,” he said. “We’ve all been a bit distracted recently.”

The music and the chatter died down as Viserys Targaryen tapped the handle of a silver knife against his glass. He walked towards the patio, followed by every pair of eager eyes in the garden.

“He’s doing a speech,” Aemond said.

“Fucking fantastic,” Aegon mumbled, having just finished a glass of wine and already pouring himself another. 

Jace shot Aegon an ugly glare.

“How good it is to see you all here tonight,” Viserys said, his voice clear and commanding, opening his arms like some benevolent King addressing his subjects. “It fills my heart with joy to be surrounded by friends and family alike...”

Jaya felt Helaena tense beside her. Aemond hadn’t even turned to face his father. He stared down at an empty space in front of him, keeping one hand on the table, tapping his index finger against the cloth.

“... and tonight, we are here to celebrate the achievements of two remarkable people, some of the most dear to me in all the world.”

The guests awed at his generosity. Jaya thought she was going to throw up.

Viserys was watching them and raised his glass. “To Jacaerys and Jaya, my wonderful grandchildren, who have now finished their exams and will begin their studies at university. I know you’ll both go on to do great things. I love you both, so dearly, and I wish you the very best.”

This was met by a chant of “hear, hear!” followed by the clinking of glasses.

But Viserys wasn’t finished just yet.

“I’m reminded especially, in these precious moments, the importance of family. The importance of trust, and a bond with those you love. When I see these faces before me, I am reminded of the foundation upon which our ancestors built our esteemed institution– the family business, we call it. Strength. Unity. Family. And I am firm in the knowledge, as we approach our fifth centenary, that the future of Dragon Bank is in very safe hands.”

The garden erupted into applause, enthusiastically from Rhaenyra, Daemon and Corlys. A little more politely from Alicent and Otto.

Her eyes met Aemond's again. There was something unsettling about the way he watched her, eyes wide, alert and somewhat sad. She followed him as he slowly got up from his seat, taking his jacket from the back of his chair. Heat bloomed in her cheeks when she realised he was coming over to her.

She felt his hand on the back of her chair as he leaned in and whispered into her ear. “Come with me,” he said, offering his hand.

She followed without question and without looking back.

Aemond’s hand was tight over hers as they moved through the party. Some of the guests had started to mingle now that dinner had moved on to dessert, platters of fruit and pastries. Viserys was talking to some of the board members, Lyonel by his side, far too distracted to notice his dear granddaughter being led towards the patio. They passed through the glass doors and into the house. She immediately noticed how quiet it was inside, but all the noise and excitement was happening in the garden.

There were all sorts of hiding spots in the house, archways and alcoves, places they would make use of as children. He slipped into one such spot, between the doors and a marble archway that separated the conservatory from the main hallway. It didn’t make them invisible, but it was quiet, barely lit by the light of the chandelier in the hallway.

It was a snug space too. Aemond leaned his back against the wall and pulled her in to join him. She was close to his chest, with perhaps less than a foot of space behind her before she’d be against the other wall.

“What are we–”

“Shh,” Aemond ordered, holding his finger against her lips.

Jaya couldn’t stop herself from smiling as she lowered her voice to a whisper. “What are we doing?” 

Aemond withdrew his finger from her lips and came to take both of her hands in his. “I’ve missed you,” he said.

Her heart leapt but she kept calm. “You’ve spoken to me most days lately,” she said.

“No, I mean…” for a moment he seemed to lose his train of thought, his eyes, dark in the low light, drifting slowly over her face, her neckline and back to her eyes. He squeezed her hands as if to remember. “I have something for you.”

He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a small, square box. He offered it to her and she hated that she would have to let go of him to take it.

She lifted the lid and stared in wonder at a pendant lying on a bed of blue velvet. It was simple and exquisite, a single pearl and a small sapphire. She looked up to Aemond. He was watching her with a small smile.

“May I?” she said.

Aemond huffed a laugh that made a warmth bloom in her chest. She was close enough to feel his breath running over her neck and shivered at the memory of the party, his bedroom, just him.

He delicately took the pendant from the box and revealed the gold chain to her. She could feel herself being drawn in by everything about him, the care with which he moved his fingers, the concentration in his eyes when he looked at her, the secretive smile on his lips.

Maybe it was the gin and the wine but she felt lightheaded and her hands were trembling.

Aemond brought the necklace around her neck and leaned over her shoulder to close the clasp, his chest pressed against hers, his fingertips brushing over her skin. She tried to steady her breathing as she consumed the familiar scent of him, mint, smoke, leather and the perfume that smelled like a forest in a bottle.

Her hands moved of their own accord, settling on his shoulders to keep him close.

Aemond paused. With the necklace secure he dragged his hands over her shoulders, her arms, coming to clutch her by the elbows, but he didn’t let go. 

Jaya took a deep breath and titled her head towards his neck.

Aemond shuddered. Then pulled away, slowly, but only until their faces were inches apart.

Seconds dragged by, maybe they were minutes, and she lost herself to him, his sharp blue eyes, the pleading look of his brow, the curve of his lips and the slight flare of his nose as he breathed.

He kept his hands on her arms, tracing circles on her skin with his thumbs.

She had never known her heart to beat this fast, to feel so terrified and yet so content.

“Do you like it?” Aemond muttered.

She brought one of her hands up to hold the pendant, feeling over the curve of the pearl, the cut edges of the sapphire. “I love it,” she said. “It’s like me and you.”

“How so?”

“Pearls are of the sea, like the Velaryons, like me.” She reached one hand up to the side of his face, moving her thumb over his temple. Of all his siblings, he was the only one with blue eyes instead of violet. “And a sapphire, like you.”

“That’s a beautiful way to put it,” Aemond said.

“Did you really not think of that before you bought it, or did you just think it was pretty? How superficial of you,” she added with a grin.

Aemond smirked. “Maybe you’re just smarter than me.”

“No, I doubt that,” Jaya said.

They smiled at each other then settled to silence, as the noise of the party raged on in the distance. 

He placed his hand against her cheek. “I’m just so proud of you, Jay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper; it didn’t need to be any louder. “I’m so proud of everything you’ve achieved, everything you’re going to achieve.”

She leaned into his touch. She felt light and heavy, happy and sad.

“Results are still a week off,” she said.

“And they’re going to be perfect, I know they will,” he said. He shifted his hand when her eyes dropped to the floor, urging her to look at him as his thumb traced circles on her cheek. “And we’ll be at the same university together, won’t that be wonderful?”

It would only be for a year. Aemond would be graduating the following summer. That thought inexplicably filled her with dread.

“Yeah,” she said.

Suddenly she realised her back was against the wall and Aemond’s hand was on her waist. His thumb traced lower, to the corner of her lips. She became weightless with anticipation, with wanting. It was all very gentle, subtle, easy to back away from, if that was what she wanted. Only she didn’t want to.

Aemond didn’t need to lean in far before their lips met. Once again she found herself stunned at how easy it was to kiss him. She didn’t think about what she was doing, she just let herself feel him, move with him as his lips grazed hers, as his tongue slipped into her mouth.

She could barely breathe and she didn’t care. He tightened his grip on her waist, simultaneously pushing her further into the wall, pulling her into him and pressing his body almost completely against hers. 

The hand on her cheek came to the side of her neck. He titled her head and she followed, letting him kiss her deeper, harsher, hungrier. 

She held onto him as much as she could, his jaw, his neck, his hair, always pulling herself into him, rocking her hips against his when they started to move.

He trailed kisses down to her neck, until he found a soft spot that had her sighing and squirming. She gripped onto his shoulders for purchase and she felt him chuckle against her skin.

He took her by surprise when he slid a hand under her skirt, along her thigh, to hitch her leg around his hip. She let out a short whimper, soon muffled when Aemond pressed his lips back to hers in a bruising kiss. 

It felt good to kiss him, run her fingers through his perfect hair, take a breath just to see the flush of blood in his cheeks, the dark, desperate look on his face. His hand trailed further along her thigh, teasing and gripping at her flesh. The wanting feeling in her gut was starting to become overwhelming. 

“Do you like it?” Aemond breathed, digging his fingertips into the flesh of her ass. “Do you like it when I touch you like this, Zaldrīzītsos?”

It was wrong. So fucking wrong, but she never wanted this feeling to stop, balanced on a knife-edge, standing on the brink of something dangerous and thrilling. It could be their little secret, kept between the sheets of his bed, in the gloomy corner of this house, in the stolen glances and the parts of her mind that felt incomplete without him.

“Yeah I do,” she uttered, “I really fucking do–”

“Jaya!”

Aemond dropped her leg instantly. They stared into each other’s eyes, terrified that they might have been caught.

“Jaya? Aemond?” Rhaenyra’s voice called through the conservatory. She hadn’t passed through the doors but her heels were clicking against the floor, dangerously close to their hiding place.

Aemond took a step back from Jaya, running his fingers through his hair. 

She fixed her dress and wiped the smeared lipgloss from her mouth.

Just as Rhaenyra appeared in the hallway. “Oh there you are,” she said, sparing the briefest of glances for her brother. “Come outside, Viserys is asking why you haven’t greeted him yet.”

“Right,” Jaya said, “of course.” She could feel the warmth leaving her skin as she stepped away from Aemond and followed her mother back into the garden.

Three of them were stood together, Daemon, Corlys and Viserys, three of the most powerful men in the Seven Kingdoms, all smiling when they saw her. Sometimes these ‘talks’ with her grandfather were hard to decipher. You could never be sure if it was in a familial or a business capacity. Something about their smiles felt forced. Business, she guessed.

Viserys hugged her and made a big show of it, but it was brief and his arms didn’t feel too tight around her.

“The woman of the hour!” he exclaimed, “my beautiful granddaughter.”

Alicent was sitting at a table with her father, Criston Cole hovering over her shoulder. The three of them seemed to be rather interested in this interaction. 

“Your mother’s been telling me all about your plans for September?” Viserys said.

She spotted Aemond in the corner of her eye, walking back towards the table. “Yes,” she said brightly, “I can’t wait to start.”

“And still be close to home, of course,” Viserys said.

“She’s always been ambitious,” Rhaenyra said, putting her hand on Jaya’s shoulder. 

“I’m sure all the hard work will pay off,” Corlys added, “you’ll go on to do great things, Jaya.”

She tried to hide the confusion in her face. All this praise was making her suspicious. She brought her hand to her chest, letting her fingers clutch at the pendant hanging from her neck. “Thank you,” she said, “I mean, I hope so.”

Viserys chuckled, but then his expression faded into something more serious. He glanced between Corlys and Daemon. “You know, it’s important to consider the future, to have faith in yourself and your abilities, wouldn’t you agree, Jaya?”

“Yes,” she said, without thinking.

“I have faith in our future,” he said, and she knew the only thing he could have meant was the bank. “I have faith in your mother, who’ll one day, hopefully not too soon, succeed me.”

“Oh dad,” Rhaenyra said.

Viserys’ piercing violet eyes moved to Jaya. “And I have faith that one day, someone just as intelligent and capable as Rhaneyra, will take over from her, and continue to protect this incredible legacy we have been gifted.”

Jaya felt her heart in her throat. She looked to her mother and Rhaenyra smiled, and nodded.

Viserys obviously had his favourites, Daemon, Rhaenyra, now Jaya dared to think she might be included in the illustrious list, if he meant what she thought he did.

“That would be incredible,” she said quietly.

“If you’re in King’s Landing, we could easily get you some work at the Keep, an internship, shadowing, something like that,” Viserys said, his voice instantly switching into something more formal. “We can get you on the payroll if you’d like as well, it’s a good look to have income.”

“Come on Viserys, don’t bore the girl with business,” Daemon said with a chuckle.

“Of course not!” Viserys said, “but you know how it is, Jaya, you always have to be switched on, to an extent. You’ll learn that soon enough.”

“Yes,” she said with a smile.

His eyes dropped to her neck. “What a pretty necklace,” he said. “End of exam gift?” he asked Rhaenyra.

She suddenly realised she was still holding it and dropped her hand. “It was from Aemond, actually.”

Viserys smiled and said nothing.

“That’s very sweet of him,” her mother said.

With that she was dismissed. Viserys and Corlys wandered off into a corner, muttering harshly to each other. Daemon and Rhaenyra shared a pointed look and rejoined Laena, Alicent and Otto at their table.

Aemond was chatting casually with Baela, while Helaena and Rhaena were enthralled in their own conversation. Baela mentioned that the others had all gone up to the orchard. She and Aemond were intending to join them but wanted to wait for her.

They walked on either side of her as they headed away from the main party, along the dark path to the brightly lit orchard. They could already see Daeron, Luke and Joffrey climbing the trees, Aegon and Jace sitting on the grass drinking from bottles of wine or champagne.

“Classy,” Baela muttered, to Jaya and Aemond’s amusement.

The light faded as soon as they left the main area of the party. All the lights and the candles couldn’t reach the path to the orchard and they stepped a little unsurely along the old cobbled path and overgrown grass.

At some point Jaya tripped over a loose stone. Aemond grabbed her arm with two hands in a tight grip. He kept hold of her, even when they continued walking.

She tried not to think about his hand on her bare skin, her hip brushing against him, his eyes burning into the spot on her chest where the pendant fell– she only hoped Baela didn’t notice.

“What did Viserys want?” Aemond asked.

Guilt twinged in her chest and her gut. “It was just a chat.”

“Hmm.”

Jaya scowled payfully at him. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing with Viserys is ever ‘just a chat’,” he said.

A sudden noise caught their attention. It was something loud and alarming, maybe a shout.

Her feet kept walking but she felt frozen.

Aegon and Jace were standing face to face, their faces obscured by light and shadow. It looked like they were arguing. Aegon was clutching a bottle in one hand, swaying and pushing his hair back,the way he usually did when he was drunk. Jace kept stepping closer and closer to him.

“I don’t like the look of this,” Jaya said.

“They’re just pissed,” Baela said. “They’ve been going through bottles way too quickly.”

Suddenly Aegon reached his arm out, maybe to hit him or grab his shirt, but Jace didn’t give him the chance and shoved him back by his chest.

Aemond moved immediately, rushing to separate them. Jaya instinctively gripped Baela’s hand and they did their best to keep up with him.

Her heartbeat pulsed in her head. She watched Aemond put himself between them, keeping Aegon behind him and outstretching his arm to Jace.

Jace started shouting again, something she couldn’t decipher, but his voice was getting clearer the closer she got. She had to get closer.

He shouted something that made Aemond freeze. She could see something was off, the way he tensed, and slowly lowered his arm.

Then he lunged forward, fists flying, knocking Jace to the ground. 

Baela screamed. Luke ran for Aegon and neither of them held back. Daeron wrapped his arms around Joffrey and dragged him away from the fighting.

Jaya felt it in her throat when she screamed, Jace’s name, then Aemond’s, with more raw fury than she ever thought herself capable of. 

Joffrey was safe.

She couldn’t think about what Baela was doing, she just knew she was behind her then she was running in another direction.

She knew had to get Aemond off Jace, but she didn’t want to go touch him, or go anywhere near him. He moved like a feral animal, blind with rage, pummelling his fists into Jace’s face.

She caught glimpses of Jace, the whites of his eye, red blood running from his nose and pooling in his mouth. He tried to spit some of it into Aemond’s face and claw at him with his fingernails but there was nothing he could do to deter him.

She couldn’t understand it, why everything had escalated, how quickly Aemond had changed, how he could be capable of such brutality, and she was furious.

Blood burning in her veins and coomon sense long since abandoned, she grabbed Aemond by the shoulders and yanked him back as hard as she could. Somehow she managed to avoid his flailing arms and Jace’s attempts at retaliation, shoving Aemond onto the ground.

She knelt beside her brother, trying to wipe some of the blood from his face, checking to see where the cuts were and if anything was broken. Her hands were trembling. She wasn’t used to seeing this much red and it was staining her hands, her pretty white dress.

Daeron and Baela had put themselves between Aegon and Luke, still trying to scrap at each other like dogs. Jaya looked for Joffrey and found him running back to the party, shouting for help.

Only then did she spare a glance for Aemond.

He was utterly stunned. He stared back at her, eyes dark and starry with the reflection of the lights on the trees, a panting mess, with bruised knuckles, blood and scratches on his face.

Hot tears ran down her cheeks effortlessly and tasted bitter when they met her lips.

He hauled himself to his feet, flexing his hands and checking his knuckles. Good. She hoped it fucking hurt. She hoped his hands would be covered in bruises for weeks.

Eventually Aegon and Luke stopped struggling. The pulsing in her head stopped and the orchard was quiet once more, the vacant space filled with heavy breaths and Jace’s groans of pain. Jaya cradled him in her arms, promising help would be there soon.

There was shouting coming from the party now, movement and figures heading for the orchard. Gods, their parents were going to be livid.

She heard Luke take a breath before he screamed it. “FUCKING MONSTER!”

Her head darted to look behind her. Luke was too far away from Baela for her to stop him. There was another empty bottle lying on the grass. He grabbed it by the neck and smashed it against a tree trunk.

Sharp side raised, Luke ran towards Aemond. 

She didn’t hesitate and put herself in front of Luke, seizing both of his wrists. She suddenly realised how much taller he’d grown lately; he towered over her and she was struggling to match his strength. 

“Luke!” she shouted, “drop it! Fucking drop it!”

Luke’s face was twisted in fury and anguish, he didn’t even seem to have heard her. He tried to twist out of her hold and she grabbed the bottle instead.

Her hand slipped. Her arm moved behind her. She felt the impact of the bottle against something hard before it sliced through a softer surface. Something warm and wet splattered over her hand, her arm, her neck, her hair, her dress, everywhere.

It took her a moment to register the scream. It was low and guttural, forcing itself through the throat of someone who usually took pride in his unbreakable resolve.

She was still clinging to the glass when she turned around to see Aemond on his knees. He had one hand on the ground and the other cradled his left eye. Dark blood oozed through his fingers.

She might as well have lodged the sharp end in her own chest.

A/n: Hi! a quick note from me. This chapter was a bit of a struggle to write but I'm really happy with how it turned out! Chapters 1 and 2 take place before the prologue, and then Chapter 3 is going to jump ahead six years. Then we're building up to the events of the prologue. So thanks for reading and stay tuned 😚

Tags (comment to be added to either)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria

Series taglist: @aemondsbabygirl @persephonerinyes @sirenangelroyal @qyburnsghost @adragonprinceswhore @boundlessfantasy @asumofwords @summerposie @thedamewithabook @ammo23 @valyrianflower @jiminie-08 @magnificentdelusionr @hiddencurator

[s3cr3tjuic3]

buddie agere headcanons :P

nsfw dni pls

Buck!

-Buck is a flip but majorly leans towards regressing. he started involuntary regressing sometime after the fire engine accident but he always put it off and pretended he was fine. he thought it was some kind of flashback because he would often get scared and jumpy. it wasnt until Chim caught him having a panic attack in the bunks that he found out he was regressing. Chim had been noticing some signs in Buck but didnt press him about it because he assumed he knew. he in fact, did not.

-after Chim helps him calm down and find a name for whats been happening to him, Buck tells Eddie and Maddie since they are the closest and they both take turns babysitting him.

-Eddie is Buck's main caregiver, although Buck can be very independent since thats how he grew up when he was physically little. Eddie and Maddie have to teach Buck that they will give him affection no matter what and he doesn't need to hurt himself for their attention.

-its not uncommon for Buck to be sad when he regresses and sometimes he will try to spend a lot of time in bed when he's at his loft or in the bunks at the station. Eddie has to coerce him from the bed to somewhere sunny. Little!Buck cries a lot but Eddie is always up for some cuddles to make him feel better.

-On the other hand, when Buck is in a good mood, he is pure ADHD. he will either run circles around the station or he'll talk your ear off about natural disasters. Bobby keeps a basket of kid's books in the lounge area for Buck to read which turns into Buck sitting cuddled up to someone telling them all the facts about volcanoes he knows from watching documentaries (Eddie and Bobby are his usual victims).

-Buck isnt very big on little gear but Eddie has the occasional paci in case Buck has a very bad day and regresses to a smaller than usual age.

-however he LOVES toys, he has a giant toybox in his loft full of fire trucks, police cars, and hot wheels (Maddie banned Buck-sized skateboard but did gift him some Tech Decks). He also loves plushies, especially jellycat plushies. Chim gifted buck a net to hold his plushies.

-despite how hyperactive Buck his, he's very well behaved and has a reward system with Eddie to encourage him to behave. Eddie has sticker charts and depending on how well Buck behaves, he gets rewards anywhere from candy to small gifts.

Eddie!

-Eddie is also a flip but doesn't have a specific lean towards being a caregiver or a regressor. Obviously Eddie loves taking care of kids, he loves his son more than anything but even he will admit that he grew up way too early. His regression is more voluntary, but not always. His regression became more involuntary after he changed his will. He's tried his best to hide his regression from Chris (he knows, he understands). At first, only Carla knows and helps him learn about it and get gear. but eventually, after Buck reveals to the 118 that he's an age regressor, Eddie tells Buck that he's an age regressor too and they take care of each other. or sometimes have Maddie and Chim watch them.

-Eddie's regression is very soft, he's not as hyper unless he's around Little!Buck, he just prefers curling up with someone and watching movies or cartoons. He regresses pretty young and really likes using little gear, which Buck is very happy to give him

-Since Eddie's regression is mostly him just wanting physical affection, he doesnt misbehave much so he doesnt need a reward chart (though he still loves gifts).

-He loooooves fluffy things. Blankets, plushie, soft rattles, loves them. When he regresses at Buck's loft, he always has a blanket around his shoulders.

-Buck is Little!Eddie's favorite person and follows him around everywhere. Everybody calls Eddie 'Duckling' when he regresses. Chim starts buying him rubber ducks and placing them on his bunk in the firehouse. Hen buys him a duck plushie that he keeps at the firehouse and carries with him when Buck isn't on shift with him. His name is Mr. Quackers.

-Eddie is also a sensitive little and cries very easily. He's very emotional. He's not the best at hiding it and it often gets him benched if he regresses while on the job. That also makes him sad. But Buck spends every other moment with him if theyre not on a call.

-Overall, Buck and Eddie are well loved and anyone from the 118 is willing to look after them if they can. Bobby and Athena especially love looking after them.

[tearfallpixie]

Trust and Love - Chapter 1: Meeting the band

Tags: @nerdraging4point0 @thesazzb @synthetic-wasp-570 @circle-with-me @beaker1636 @itsjustemily @witchyweeb34 @agravemisstake @cookiesupplier @cncohshit @faceless-mirror @nonamessblog @yournecessaryevil @black-damask1999

@lyschko666 @vinyardmauro @skulliecadaver-blog @some-daniela @latenightmusiclover @rye14-blog1

“Baby girl, they are going to love you.” Ricky assured me. I frowned and stared towards the daunting bus. Ricky and I had been together for 6 months but in that time I hadn’t met his band mates once. Needless to say I was terrified.

“Promise?” I whispered. He pulled me into a kiss and nodded before taking my hand and guiding me to the bus. He opened the door and let me get on first where I was greeted by what I could only describe as chaos. There were people everywhere trying to stock stuff in the kitchen, set consoles up in the living room, make sure that everyone’s bags were by the right bunk. The one I recognized as Chris was the first to look in our direction and thankfully he didn’t rush over.

“You must be Olivia. It will be wonderful having you tour with us for a while.” He gave me a smile and stuck out his hand. I shook it and adjusted my camera bag on my shoulder.

“Hi, you’re Chris. Its nice to finally meet you.” I mumbled.

“Ricky, you two will be bunked in the back lounge. I know it’s a little weird but at least you two get to stay together.” Rick weaved around me and gave Chris a hug.

“Thanks man. I appreciate it. Olive was pretty nervous about being split up while on tour.” Ricky turned around and held out his hand to me. “I’ll show you back.” I took his hand and allowed him to weave me through the people. “The dork with the green hair is Justin. He’s our bassist. That one is Ryan. And this is my personal favorite village idiot, Vinny.” Everyone waved at me but Vinny was the one my eyes focused on. There was just something about his aura that made him so approachable. He had shoulder length wild hair with the front strands dyed a gorgeous red.

“Do you use Manic Panic in your hair?” I asked. Vinny lit up and nodded.

“I love their blood red color.” He told me, pulling at said strands of hair.

“It looks good on you.” He grinned and thanked me.

“You must be Ricks girl. Liv right?” I usually hated the nickname Liv but for some reason it didn’t bother me when he said it.

“Yeah, but no one else is allowed to use that nickname. I hate it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I can-“

“Nah, you get the pass for it. But only you.”

“Awe, we just met and I’m already special!” He threw an arm around my shoulder and hugged me. It took everything in me not to jerk away and start crying. Luckily Ricky stepped in.

“Whoa! Vin, let go.” He pulled Vinny’s arm off me and pulled me into his side. “She’s a touch on her term’s kind of person. I’m sorry I didn’t mention that.” I buried my head into Rickys shoulder and bit back my sobs.

“Liv, I’m so sorry. I’m just naturally touchy. It won’t happen again. I swear.” Vin stuttered.

“I-its ok. It just freaked me out a little. Ricky, can we go to our room please?” I asked.

“Yeah baby, follow me.” He murmured softly. “Vinny’s a good guy but he is very touchy. I’m sorry about that love.” I shook my head and placed a hand on his chest.

“It’s ok. I get that some people are that way. I just wish I wasn’t so … broken.” I mumbled.

“You are not broken. What happened to you was horrendous, but you are not broken because of it. Your ex was a piece of trash. I will never let something like that happen to you again.” I nuzzled under his chin and hummed.

“I know you won’t.” I leaned up and kissed him sweetly before setting my bag on the bed and sitting down. “If its ok, I think I’ll just stay back here for a little while.”

“That’s perfectly fine.” He kissed the top of my head. He was the only person in the world that had permission to touch me freely. Not even my own family could. After what happened they were grateful that I had someone like Ricky to trust and rely on.

“Can you tell Vinny I’m not mad at him?”

“I will. Get some rest baby girl.” I laid down on the bed and tried to close my eyes but the bumps of the bus and the voices up front kept me awake. There was a knock at the door, so I sat up and looked at it.

“Come in.” I called. The door opened and Vinny walked in.

“Hey, can we start over?” He asked. I patted the bed next to me and he smiled, gratefully sitting down. “Hi, I’m Vinny. Local pot head, drummer and very touchy feely.” He smirked, holding out his hand.

“Hi Vinny, I’m Olivia but you and only you can call me Liv. I’ve had a traumatic ex so please don’t touch me without me initiating it.” I giggled, shaking his hand.

“Do I have to murder someone for touching such a beautiful girl?” He asked.

“No, Ricky already made sure of that.” I mumbled. “My ex-“

“You don’t have to tell me.” Vinny waved his hands.

“I want to. In a weird way I trust you already.” I shrugged. “My ex, he use to hit me, abuse me, r-r” I shuddered and shook my head. “Well one day he got bold in public and Ricky saw it. He beat the guy to a pulp and luckily there were witnesses that defended him. Got the guy locked up for 10 years for me. We never stopped talking after that.”

“Ricky is a wonderful friend and an even better partner.” Vinny mused.

“You say that like you’ve had experience with him.” I teased. Vinny frowned.

“Would that bother you?” I shook my head. “When you get comfortable with people and you are trapped on a bus for a good portion of the year together, feelings run, hormones get high.”

“Who tops?” Vinny blushed.

“We have only done oral or hand jobs but I don’t think Ricky would let me top him for his life.”

“Have you two ever shared a partner?”

“Whoa, already having fantasies of us sharing you?” He smirked. “Just kidding. But yes, on numerous occasions. But its only ever been one night stands. Not someone we’ve ever seriously been with.” I let out a big yawn and flopped back down. “I can go if you want.”

“No, its ok. I like chatting with you.”

“Yes, sharing stories of your boyfriends sex life.” He grinned, laying down next to me.

“Ricky’s hot. I can’t have expected him to be a prude all his life. It’s kind of interesting though. I didn’t know he liked guys.” I mused, rolling on my side to look at him.

“I don’t know if he does or if it was just stress relief to him.” I scooted closer and nuzzled under Vinny’s chin feeling very comfortable with him in that moment. He froze and I could tell he was panicking.

“You can put your arm over me.” I assured him. “Once I initiate contact its ok to touch me back.” He hesitantly laid his arm down over my ribcage and buried his head into my hair.

“Your hair smells nice.” He whispered.

“I use this pharmacopeia lemon shampoo. Its amazing.”

“I’m going to have to try that then.” I finally felt myself relaxing to his soft breathing and wasn’t even bothered when he adjusted me to slide his other arm under me. I finally drifted off to sleep and that was how Ricky found us a couple hours later. He gave a soft smile and pulled out his camera to take a photo before silently closing the door and going back up front.

[cryptid-ghoulette]

Mushy may - massage

Have some Copia and Aether fluffiness (You will never convince me that a quintessence back rub wouldn’t be absolutely phenomenal)

Mushy May prompts by @forlorn-crows crows WC - 520 No warnings, all fluff

All the ghouls piled off the bus, bags in tow, breaking into smaller groups and chattering amongst themselves with equal parts excitement and exhaustion. While everyone else was eager to get back to their respective rooms in the abbey, Copia waited behind, moving slower than usual, lingering in the doorway, arching his back trying to stretch out a particularly stubborn knot.

The bus wasn’t exactly the height of luxury, and the bunks, while fine for the first week, really started to make everyone’s muscles tight and sore toward the end (and that wasn’t even taking the actual shows into account), so it wasn’t any surprise that Copia’s back was protesting the lack of care, a dull ache that sparked angrily up his back each time he bent over.

Eventually, he made his way out of the bus, wandering down the hallways on autopilot, muttering curses under his breath each time he stepped wrong and the pain flared up again, his bed calling to him like a siren. His path naturally took him past the ghoul quarters, and he peeked into their common room, checking to see if anyone was there (knowing full well most would be in theirs or others' rooms) and saw Aether lounging on the couch, half-watching something playing on the TV in front of him. Copia tried to sneak away unnoticed, but Aether looked up and made eye contact, a smile creeping across his face.

“Hey there, handsome,” he said, turning down the volume on the TV, immediately noticing how slowly Copia was moving, his voice turning to one of concern. “Come, have a seat, you must be tired.” Copia nodded, slowly shuffling over to the space on the couch that Aether was patting, sitting down with a slight groan

“It’s been a long few months, we’re all tired and sore, no need to be prideful right now, Papa,” he chuckled quietly. “Let me help.” Again, Copia nodded, too tired and sore to protest, letting Aether place his hands on his tense shoulders, gently massaging the places he could feel the knots, working some of his magic into his muscles. Copia let out a deep sigh and dipped his head forward slightly; he could feel the weight being lifted with each gentle motion of the ghoul's magic hands.

“Feeling a little better?” Aether said sweetly. Copia hummed softly. “Si, much better thank you.”

“I’m glad,” Aether replied, noticing Copia struggling to keep his eyes open. “Now, how about we get you to your room, Papa? A nice warm shower and an early night will do you wonders.”

Copia muttered in some sort of agreement, already half-asleep, his knees shaking as he tried to stand. Aether placed a hand on his shoulder, steadying the smaller man as they walked together down the dimly lit hallway.

When they reached Copia's room, he paused for a moment, hand on the door handle. “Thank you, Aether,” he murmured gratefully.

"Anytime," Aether replied with a smile, watching as Copia shuffled into his room. Satisfied and exhausted himself, Aether turned back toward the common room, ready to collapse in his own bed.

[tpwkwriter]

hiii so i have a request! Could you do one like still in harry's 1d days. So like y/n is louis sister and she has been friends with the band since the beginning and harry has been in love with her since he first laid eyes on her and all that. But he never told her because she always had a bf but those bfs would never treat her right like always ignoring her and flirting with other girls so harry kept this like journal where he wrote how in love he is with y/n and how he would treat her right, how he know everything about her all the little things and how no one could love her as much as he does. So then one day like during prince hair harry her and harry are sharing a hotel room with seperate beds (ofc haha, but because they have always been best friends) and y/n finds this journal and like reads all the things he has written and then she goes to him and is like "well, if i didnt know any better i would say mr styles has a crush on me" and he gets all nervous and says that it isnt just a crush and he is in love and that and then he asks "will you be my girlfriend. I cant' go another day of not kissing you, hugging you, touching you I cant stand you not being mine" and y/n finds it very sweet but she is very insecure and kind of rejects him in a nice way because she feel they will critisise her because they expect harry to be w a model and gorgeous girl and harry is tells her how beautiful she is and how he feel in love the moment they met and how it didnt matter what the world thought because no one can love her like he can and he know eveything about her so he asks again "will you let me be your boyfriend" and she finally agrees and then he holds her close and protectively and then y/n starts tearing up and says sorry because she was being silly and he says "dont be. Its not silly, baby. I'll be her to wipe every tear and to comfort you. Your heart is safe here, you are safe with me, my love" and then how they spend the first night together because well they share a hotel room and then the morning after harry saying how happy he is and how he has always dreamed about it and then they meet with the boys and tell em the news and they are all very happy and are like "about time" and yeah hope you understand it thank you again so much it would be great i feel its so cute! <3

Does he know?

OMGOMG THANK YOU FOR THISS!! the detail you put in and the image it painted in my head AHHH❤️

I’m so sorry this has taken so long!! I really wanted this to be perfect!! 🌷 but thank you for your patience It means the world x

Warnings: jealousy, mentions of toxic relationships, cussing, smutty themes if you squint, pent up emotions.

— — — — — — —

— early 2013 —

Harry’s fingers held a ballpoint pen between his fingers, the lined paper sat empty on the table adjacent to him.

There new album ‘midnight memories’ was due mid November of this year, he loved his job but these deadlines took the piss.

‘Fuck’ he whispered to himself, he didn’t realise the clock had gone over midnight.

The shared tourbus was at a halt for the night the rest of the four boys remained in there bunk and no one heard a peep from them through the rest of the night.

“Y’alright H?” Y/n said Peeling the curtain that separated the bunks to the lounging area of the bus, and pulling it back behind her.

“Sorry y/n, did i wake you?” He quietly asked, dropping his pen instantly.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t have a crush on y/n, she was also the youngest of the Tomlinson family so her and Harry grew up together at the same time and age, hitting each milestone and big birthdays together.

“No, no not at all” she waved, sitting on the sofa next to his.

“What y’doing awake still?” She asked, taking a sip of her water.

“Tryna get song ideas, getting absolutely nowhere” he said, crossing his arms back and leaning back on the cushions.

“What are you doing awake? He smirked.

“Can’t sleep, excited for tomorrow” she smiles.

“Haven’t seen you all on stage for a while” she added.

They sat and spoke for awhile, what y/n was oblivious of is how many ideas he was racking up watching her.

She reached her arm out to grab her water bottle, her wrist was exposed from her hoodie sleeve for a second, what Harry didn’t expect was to see an inky drawing.

“Is that a tattoo?” He asked.

“Oh this?” She askers pulling her hoodie up her arm.

“Yeah, me and Louis got matching a few days ago, a random spontaneous idea that popped into our heads” she laughed repressing the day her and her older brother got matching ‘28’ tats.

“It’s funny because ben, hasn’t even noticed it, and it’s like our 4th month together” y/n mentioned, a slight frown forming on her face.

Harry’s heart teared a tiny bit, she was still with this ‘Ben’ it was clear none of the boys got on with him, he wasn’t the bestest of boyfriend.

“Really?” He asked, eyes widening.

“Mmhmm, don’t know what to do about this whole Situation-ship thing”

“Well, do you love him?” He asked, fiddling with the hem of his band tee.

“I can’t say I do Harry” she sighed, “but there’s a part of me that feels bad” she added.

“Don’t feel bad, if it’s not meant to be, s’not meant to be”

All y/n wanted to do was scream out her attraction to him, something clicked in, the soft and gentle words he spoke, the way he still looked good at 1am after a busy day, the way he made a band tee look like piece of designer. Y/n wasn’t sure what happened.

Y/n soon enough found herself back in her bunk, trying to push down her sudden butterflies, hoping it’s just a 1am sleepy thought, the last thing she wants is to thirst over her brothers best friend.

When y/n and Harry exchanged there goodnights, he instantly got back to his paper.

‘Does he know’ he whispered.

‘Does he know’ he repeated.

‘Your secret tattoos?” He asked himself.

He instantly jotted these phrases to himself.

Harry tried to think to himself of the little things you do.

Maybe you could be his muse this time around?

—

It was 8:45am the next day the bus was off again at 5pm so for now they could relax.

Y/n believed she was alone on the bus, she thought the boys were out doing the coffee run, she thought wrong.

“But she doesn’t know who I am, and she doesn’t give a damn about me” she sang whole continuing to organise her suitcase on her bunk.

As the beats of ‘teenage dirtbag’ continue, she moves her body to beat and sing.

“Cause I’m just a teenage dirtbag baaby” she sung.

“Y/n you may be a Tomlinson doesn’t mean you can sing like one though” he interrupted, almost kicking the tourbus door open and walking over to her bunk with her Starbucks in hand.

“Heeeey, I’m a lovely singer, it should be me selling out O2” she said with pride.

“She got you there tommo” Niall piped in walking in.

“See” she giggled.

“Thank you for this lou” she dragged taking a sip of her iced coffee.

“No problemo, me and and the lads are heading to the studio in a bit y’ can come if you want?” Louis offered sitting on his bunk opposite to y/n’s.

“Yeah will do” she answered.

At this point all boys were back on the bus enjoying some quality time together, but all Harry could think of was the remaining lyrics.

‘The songs that you sing when your all alone?’ He thought to himself, that’s a keeper.

——beginning of where we are 2014——

In past year y/n and Harry had become closer than ever, it’s was a night at the MSG, the boys opted on a hotel instead of the bus, to Louis’ dismay y/n and Harry were up for sharing a hotel.

“Neither of you better be doing anything” Louis called the opposite of the hotel door.

“Fuck sake lou, you can come in” she laughed, laying her head back on the hotel bed frame.

The door clicks open to see a wet head louis, who was still clad in his joggers and ‘the who’ tee.

“You nearly ready Harry!” He called, pulling his phone out and glancing the time.

“Yeah man” he said emerging from the bathroom.

“Have fun tonight guys” she called out as they both met each other at the door. “I’ll be sure to watch some shitty livestream of you all prancing about on stage” she laughed.

“Thanks love” Louis said rolling his eyes.

“See you y/n don’t get too lonely without us” Harry smirked flashing her a wink while adjusting his head scarf which kept his unruly curls at bay.

“Bye boys” she called as they slowly walked off and headed to the arena.

They had been gone about an hour and y/n knew they wouldn’t be back till maybe after midnight.

She decided to set down and get ready to stay in her bed and have a relaxed night.

When unpacking her bags and digging to find her favourite pyjamas she was sure she packed. A large ‘thump’ was heard the other side of the room.

“Shit” she jumped.

A relieved smile, when it was something falling out of Harry’s suitcase.

She turned her head and spotted a brown, leather notebook that was lying on the carpet by his bags.

Once y/n had picked out her pjs for the evening, she walked over to the bed she picked out in the hotel room.

She placed them down by her pillows and was about to reach out for her phone by the charging port until something about this note book, caught her eye, ‘one and only’ was scribed into the leather with black ink.

She knows she shouldn’t, she knows that not hers, that’s Harry’s, that’s his property not y/n’s but there was something pulling her in a feeling she couldn’t push down.

A shaky breath left her mouth as her fingers reached out towards the book in front of her.

She peeled back the smooth cover:

23rd of February 2013

Ben doesn’t know how lucky he is, such a smart, beautiful, caring woman, how could he take her for granted??.

Y/n’a heart was running a Marathon.

“No” she said louder than she anticipated.

She flicked to the next page:

28th February 2013

‘All of us were at the studio this evening I couldn’t stop staring at y/n, I feel terrible knowing it’s my best friends sister, but she is wonderful’

Her mind was now matching her palpitating heart, a million thoughts were being processed at that moment.

He really thought the same the whole time?

She quickly flicked another.

3rd of March 2013

Write a couple of songs for midnight memories is it bad to say there all inspired by one person.

If she was mine she wouldn’t be ignored or treated terribly, I hope Louis talks to her about this Ben.

Y/n did agree with this statement getting rid of Ben was the best thing she’s done.

But she didn’t know Harry was the one with a crush.

She couldn’t believe her eyes, he really felt the same? He really did like her? She was almost hyperventilating.

10th of March 2013

I’ve noticed when y/n gets anxious she plays with the ends of her hair, I wish I could just scoop her into my arms and tell her it’s going to be okay.

Ben is finally out the picture, hopefully she can be with someone who knows her self worth.

Her heart is beaming, butterflies fill each side of her tummy, her mind still feeling a little delusional and still very much in disbelief.

Maybe this was her sign to take there friendship another level up.

She slammed the cover over the paper and decided if she’d read anymore she’d become a crimson red mess.

She gently tucked it into the suitcase of where it fell and tried to go on as normal.

She decided to wait up for Harry and see what she could do about this, she couldn’t hide this any longer she wish she knew sooner about his little crush.

It was just past midnight and she heard the hotel room key click in approval.

A tired looking Harry appears.

“Y’alright” she quietly asked.

“Mmm” he hummed shutting the door behind him.

Y/n move to one side of her bed, and patted the empty space beside her, inviting him to join.

Wether it was just his sleepy mind, but he took no time and accepted her invitation.

Y/n let him adjust to the light, and get comfortable not wanting to overload him already.

“Y’okay” he asked, noticing her thinking face.

“Yeah” she smiled.

“Well if I didn’t know any better, than I think that you mr styles have a teeny crush” she said, a breathy laugh leaving her mouth.

His eyes widened, now it it was his time to go red.

“Wha-“ he nervously laughed.

“I guess y’right” he said looking straight ahead at the blank wall.

“Y/n, m’gonna be honest”

“I’m in love with you”

Y/n’s heart pounded inside her chest, this is real? This was real life, he admitted.

“Harry” she blushed.

“And I know, it’s probably weird, we’ve been friends for 4 years now and on a random night , I’m now saying this but, seeing you keep hurting yourself on these boys that don’t understand you, it hurts”

“Harry-“ her cheeks becoming a strawberry colour.

“Be my girlfriend?” Harry blurted.

Y/n’s ears almost burned at the question, Someone she actually had interest in liked her back? And wanted to be with her? She felt like. Lovesick teenager again.

She wanted this, more than ever.

But Louis.

Realistically there was nothing wrong with it, they were the same age, and both wanted it.

“I can’t stand another day, not touching you, not hugging you, not wiping your tears away” he added, which caused y/n’s thought process to halt.

“Harry, y’too good for me” she started, a glossy layer had formed over her eyes.

“Y’need someone better, your options are so big” she said head almost dropping to her lap.

“Hey” he said taking using his index finger and thumb to guide her chin up.

“What I’ve learnt is your the one I want, haven’t been able to settle because of you y/n”

���Be mine?” He asked once again leaning his forehead on hers using his free hand to wipe the tears away.

“Please” he whispered, this is all he’s wanted.

Worried that her words would fail her at that moment all she could do was frantically nod.

“Yeah?” He smiles, there noses basically touching at this point.

“Words baby, need y’words” he reminded.

“Yeah, yes harry yes” she smiled, tears still manage to cascade her cheeks.

“Thank fuck” he breathed, now hesitating to wrap his arm around the girl, oh how he’s longed to do that.

The girl crashes into his touch, not taking her time either.

“Your okay, y’safe in my arms love” he whispered into her hair, pressing his long awaited kisses.

— the following morning —

Both Harry and y/n were getting ready to meet the rest of the lads on the bus, which was round the back of the hotel.

“How are we gonna tell them?” Harry asked getting the rest of his stuff.

“They’ll understand, Louis will be unsure but he’s my brother he can’t hate me forever” she laughed.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, and they made there way to the boys.

“Guys we have something to tell you all” y/n began.

— — — — —

[perpetualfox]

Mine, All Mine - Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x GN!Reader [Light NSFW]

Warnings: Possessive Behavior, Heavy Petting.

Wordcount: 862

A little character study of Gaz. I'm not totally happy with it, but its a start.

→ Kyle isn’t a possessive guy—ask anybody.

→ He doesn’t mind when Soap lounges on his bunk (provided he takes his boots off first). He’d seen Ghost nearly put his foot through the Scot’s ass for so much as leaning against his bedpost. Gaz didn’t really understand what all the fuss was about—he wasn’t fully convinced Ghost actually used his bed, being up at all hours. Why should he care if Soap took a load off now and again? It didn’t bother him any. The way he saw it, he was in a bottom bunk, that meant his bed doubled as a couch sometimes. Until the rooms were reassigned, it was simply his lot.

→ He wasn’t bothered when Price ‘borrowed’ the pens from his desk. He’d open a new pack and within the hour, they’d begin disappearing one by one; being borrowed and traded amongst the squad until no one could remember where they had come from in the first place. No one except for Gaz of course. He remembered, but he didn’t much care. He’d taken to carrying a few around with him, as his Captain—a man capable of recalling every minute detail about a thousand types of weaponry, or a target he’d neutralized ten years previous—seemed utterly incapable of remembering where he had last put down his pen. Some people were so previous about their stationary, he knew; keeping track of who had borrowed what and when, but they were pens for Chrissake; the lot had cost him less than two quid. He could always get more.

→ He doesn’t even go after the bastard who keeps stealing his leftovers from the communal fridge. Even when it was from his favourite takeaway joint. Even though his name was on it. Even though he knew exactly who was doing it (his name rhyming with ‘Post’). In truth, Gaz was just glad to know the man was eating. Simon was a big lad; he could look after himself, but sometimes days would pass before Gaz saw him at mealtime, or caught a glimpse of him in the hall, a green apple clutched in his fist. He knew Simon hated to be the center of attention—to be picked at and fussed over, so Gaz never pressed him. Still, he worried, silently, from a distance, and made sure to leave his takeout containers in that fridge now and again.

→ He's always been willing to share—the last cigarette in his pack, the bougie snacks he squirrels away beneath his mattress, his time, his thoughts, his body—whatever was needed to get the job done, he’d give it. It was in his nature. Jealousy on the other hand, was new to him; a green-eyed devil on his shoulder that had burst into existence when you’d first tucked your hand into his and said, ‘Yes, we should do this again. And again, and again, and again.’

→ Every time you smiled at him, the demon sank its claws a little deeper, filling him with a bone-deep need to have you—to keep you all for himself.

→ He tries to keep a muzzle on it. He really, really tries, but there’s a touch of that devil in everything he does. It’s in the way he tries so hard to keep you off of the base, away from the prying eyes of his squad and the leering stares of the new recruits. It’s in the arm he wraps around your waist when he takes you out, the hand that rides high on your thigh in the back of the cab. It’s in the warning stare he levels at the men and women in the pub who try to catch your eye. And it’s in the way he pushes you up against the door of your apartment when he takes you home at the end of the night.

→ He kisses you like he couldn’t bear wait another moment, and in truth, he can’t. He presses his warm lips against every inch of exposed skin, and he doesn't care who sees. 'Let them look,' he thinks, 'Let them see what they can't have.'

→ When you finally manage to school your shaking hands enough to fit the key into the lock and tumble through the door, he’s off like a shot, dragging you down the hall, leaving jackets and boots in a haphazard trail toward the bedroom.

→ He holds you down, using his weight to press you into your mattress. His incisors prick at your skin as he sinks them into the meat of your neck, stamping the indentations of his teeth into you over and over, marking you up for everyone to see. In the morning, with the haze of sleep still clinging to him, he’ll apologize, ghosting his lips over each purpling mark, but now, with the jealous demon’s fire raging through him, he just can’t help himself.

→ “Let them try to take you from me, baby,” He seethes against your flesh, tonguing a hot stipe along the column of your throat. His hips rock against yours hard enough the thin metal line of your zipper beings to sting the flesh beneath, “Just let them fucking try.”

[storiesofsvu]

A Dangerous Game Ch 23

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, some teasing, that's about it. Welp. We've come full circle. We are at the end of the fic. It's been a bit of a wild ride, but we made it, right? lol. thank you all for commenting, reblogging and interacting! <3. Bingo starts next month and Emily is currently dominating that one, so there's plenty of Prentiss to come! Otherwise, if you're interested in an Alex Blake series fill out that taglist to be notified when it starts! Love you all!

Buy me a ko-fi

Over the next couple of weeks you and Emily always made sure to set aside Friday nights for each other, though that wasn’t really anything new. Some nights were out on the town, finally happy to get a chance to show the other one off, while some remained tucked in one of you apartments with take out and cuddles. You got through your first couple of cases with no complaints from any of the higher ups and the reins got loosened a little bit as it was realized you were both trustworthy and putting the job above all else. You still managed to keep things hidden from the rest of the team, Garcia getting enough joy out of gossiping with Derek or one of the two of you in the meantime.

Derek had stuck true to his word, making sure to jump on the chance to bunk with you on out of town cases, much to your annoyance. Although now that you’d actually figured things out, you didn’t need to stick to your ‘Vegas’ rule, you were together at home already. But that wasn’t enough to stop Derek, little teasing remarks the entire week on a case out in Atlanta.

Currently, you’d just taken down an unsub down in Jacksonville, Florida. While the case was solved and the paperwork was done by dinner time, the jet had been loaned out to another department which meant another two nights in the sunshine state. Considering the weather in DC had started to dip, no one was really complaining about the extended vacation. The hotel had a large courtyard out front that included an oversized patio connected to the lounge just inside the doors and that’s where the team debriefed, drinks flowing, tables covered in appetizers, bits and bites to share as laughter and stories filled the air. You did your best to linger as late as you could as everyone started trickling off but Derek was holding out just as long as you were, Emily shooting him a glare when you finally caved, saying you were heading to bed and he followed your lead.

*

Emily rolled over in the uncomfortable hotel bed, her eyes scrunching before they opened to find the room still bathed in darkness. The air conditioner was whirring away under the window, but not a sliver of light was sneaking its way through the curtains. She let out a soft sigh, rolling onto her back and her head swivelled to look at the other bed where JJ was peacefully sleeping still. She curled back around herself under the blanket, shutting her eyes again in an attempt to actually sleep in considering this was the first day they could. It didn’t matter though, she could feel it already, her brain was awake and unwilling to shut back off, she was up for the day. Grimacing, she quietly reached out, plucking her phone from the bedside table to check what time it was, praying it wasn’t still the middle of the night.

*

You were just about to approach the café’s counter when the bell above the door rang, signalling another customer and you glanced over your shoulder. Your head tilted in surprise as a grin took over your lips,

“Hey…”

“Can’t say I’m surprised.” Emily chuckled in return, easily moving through the space to link your hand with hers, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

“What’re you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” She shrugged, “and someone once told me this was the best breakfast in the state.”

“You’re not wrong.” You smiled, turning back to the counter to double the order.

“You could’ve texted me.”

“We both know your phone’s not on silent, I didn’t wanna risk waking up Jayje.”

“True.” She replied, somehow managing to slip between you and the counter to pay for the food, passing you your coffee. “thought about swinging by your room but I figured if I even so much as walked down the hallway Morgan would have it out for me.”

You laughed in agreeance, thanking the worker for the sandwiches before you and Emily made your way out of the shop. Her fingers tangled with yours, thumb stroking over the back of your hand as you walked the block down to the beach. Wordlessly you both kicked off your sandals, wandering through the sand to a familiar piece of driftwood that you set up camp in front of. Emily’s free hand stayed on your thigh while she took the first sip of her coffee, letting out a happy sigh at the feeling of you nestling into her side.

It was so incredibly peaceful, the waves softly crashing against the sand while the sky began to light up, colours bursting through the clouds on the horizon, slowly climbing higher and higher into the sky. Hues of orange, pink and even a hint of lilac graced the sky as a warm breeze wafted through the air. You felt Emily take a deep breath, her shoulder moving under your head as she tried to immortalize the moment, the beauty of the sky, the salty smell of the ocean, the warmth of you beside her in the cool sand. Your gaze shifted from the ocean, flicking up to look at Emily and you practically melted at how stunningly beautiful she was with the shades of the sky reflecting off her skin, the sparkle alive in her eyes. Your hand wrapped around the one of hers she had on your thigh, linking your fingers together and she finally glanced down at you.

“What?” She asked with a small smile that you returned.

“I love you.” You murmured and the smile on her cheeks broke into a bigger one. Her free hand came up to cup your cheek, guiding you off her shoulder so she could kiss you, lips lingering against yours longer than you’d expected.

“I love you too.” She replied, a misting of happy tears invading both of your eyes as she gazed adoringly at you. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now.”

“Same.” Smiling, you kissed her softly once more, a small giggle escaping your lips before you tucked yourself back onto her shoulder once more and her lips brushed the top of your head. A very happy silence overtook the two of you while the sun continued to climb in the sky until the array of colours had finally faded away to the classic baby blue, picture perfect fluffy clouds scattered through the air. “I wish we had sunrises like this back home.”

“Guess we’ve got a reason to come back to Florida more often then.” She replied.

“Really?” You lifted your head up, glancing over at her.

“I mean, if you want to. That’s what vacation days are for, right?”

“I say we try to find the prettiest sunrise in the entire world.”

“I mean, it doesn’t matter where we are, as long as I’m with you I know it’s gonna be the prettiest.”

“Emily!” You laughed, swatting at her arm.

“I know.” She winced, “I already regret saying it.”

“You’re a fucking cheeseball sometimes, you know that right?”

“You make me… incredibly soft.” She smiled, stroking at your cheek again and you leant in to kiss her.

“Good. Maybe I’ll get the upper hand on you one of these days.” You replied with a tease, smirk on your lips before wrapping yourself around her body once more, shifting slightly in the sand to be more entangled with each other.

It was a couple more hours by the time you and Emily made the call to head back to the hotel. The sun was fully in the sky, humidity hanging in the air and the crowds had started to pick up. Rather than the relaxing mood of the sunrise, there were people sprinkled through the sand, splashing their way into the water and setting up camp for the day. You scooped up your belongings, accepting Emily’s hand when she held it out to you and the two of you wandered back towards the hotel.

On the walk back you’d already started talking about lunch, figuring it’d be best to stop at the lounge, see what the options were so you were crossing through the courtyard rather than the lobby. You made a joke that pulled a loud laugh from Emily before she tugged you to her, kissing you deeply without a care in the world. And it was certainly lucky that she didn’t care considering the voice that you heard next was one you both recognized.

“It is about damn time! Where have you two been?”

“Penelope?” You asked, pulling away from Emily, although her arm stayed firmly wrapped around your waist, “what’re you doing here?” It was then that you actually glanced around the patio, noticing a nook of it covered in very Garcia esque decorations and balloons, “what’s… going on?”

“Garcia had this all set up back at the office, but when I told her we were staying the extra two days…” Rossi started, eyeing you and Emily with a sly grin on his cheeks.

“I figured I’d hop on a plane and bring the party to you.” Penelope smiled brightly across at you, “congratulations. You’ve been part of the BAU for a year now.”

“Pen…”

“Hold up!” JJ cut in with a laugh, “better question is what’s going on here…” She gestured toward you and Emily, who laughed at the question, her cheeks tinging pink. “Where were you?”

“Down at the beach.” You replied with a shrug, doing your best to not attempt to hide in Emily’s shoulder as you laughed it off.

“Oh please don’t tell me you were doin’ the nasty down there.” Morgan groaned.

“Hey!” Emily cut him off, “maybe if you hadn’t hijacked my girlfriend’s hotel room we wouldn’t have to sneak off for some alone time.”

“Also,” you grimaced, “absolutely not. Sand would get everywhere.”

“Okay, okay.” Penelope laughed, “interrogations later. Now…” She grabbed your hand and Emily’s arm finally slipped from your waist, letting the blonde guide you over to the table, “it’s mimosa time.” She picked one up from the table, handing it to you as everyone paused to pass out glasses until everyone had one. “congratulations to our dear sugar plum y/n. You’ve made it a full year with our chaotic little family and we wouldn’t have it any other way. You were the missing part of our team and now we’ve found you and couldn’t be happier, we love you.”

Glasses clinked together as murmurs of agreements and other well wishes were heard from around the space. Penelope pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek that you returned before taking a sip of the mimosa and accepted a soft kiss from Emily, which resulted in a little bit more hooting and hollering from the team than you would’ve normally liked, but there was still a smile on your face when you pulled back from the kiss.

“Alright, the brunch buffet is open, and the mimosa’s are bottomless. Let’s enjoy our last day in the sunshine state.” Rossi announced to another rousing cheer from everyone as little conversations started to take over.

You were immediately sucked away by JJ and Garcia, Emily watching with a fond smile as the three of you gossiped over the rims of your glasses, laughter and smiles evident all around. She took a sip of her drink as she debated browsing the buffet, despite the breakfast sandwich earlier, that had been a while ago and she was thinking about eating again when Derek stepped up to her.

“Hey,” he extended out a greeting card sized envelope.

“What’s this?”

“Just wanted to get you a little something.” He smiled, “it may be Wilson’s one year with the team but that means it’s an anniversary of some sort for you too, right?”

“I guess.” She chuckled, ripping open the envelope and flipping the card around to the front then flipped it open, her brow furrowing, “Derek did you bother reading this before you bought it?” She glanced up to him, suddenly worried by the sly look on his face, “this is a father’s day card.”

“Last time I checked, you were somebody’s daddy…”

“Morgan!” She shrieked, smacking at his chest with the card and he burst into a fit of laughter, reaching out to squeeze at her shoulder.

“Okay, okay. I couldn’t resist.”

“You fucking menace.”

“I am happy for you Prentiss, really. Happy looks good on the two of you, I’m glad you got everything sorted out.”

“Yeah.” She smiled fondly in your direction, catching your eye and you excused yourself from the girls “me too.”

“He’s not torturing you, is he?” You asked, arm easily winding around her waist and she scoffed, rolling her eyes while she showed you the card. Your eyes widened in realization as the heat began to creep up the back of your neck before you shot Derek a glare.

“You’re rooming with JJ tonight, just for that.”

“Only if you buy me ear plugs first.”

“No.” You shook your head, “you don’t deserve that. You’re gonna have to hear whatever you happen to overhear.”

Derek grimaced, raising his hands in defeat before wandering off without another word, leaving you and Emily laughing together, her lips brushing against yours briefly.

“I love you.” She murmured, simply eager to say the words again, to make it known just how important you were to her and that you always would be.

“I love you more.” You replied, leaving a kiss on the tip of her nose.

“I’m not sure that’s quite possible.”

“Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” You grinned, clinking your glass with hers before she leant in to kiss you again.

It didn’t matter how long you would wait, because your love would be forever. And the two of you knew it that day, surrounded by your friends, your found family that you’d created and made just for yourselves. The ones who were there for you every step of the way, who’d helped you through some of the hardest times over the past year and proved that they loved you time and time again, and always would. There was part of you that had thought you would never be able to find and achieve this level of happiness, that love was a mythical concept people only talked about. But now you knew that was the farthest thing from the truth. With Emily by your side and in your corner you’d unlocked the ultimate level of peace, the greatest experience that life could bring you was one with her, and Emily couldn’t possibly be any happier than getting to be your person.  

____________________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @melindawarnersgf @itisdoctortoyousir @emilyprentiss4life @somethingimaginative17 @temilyrights @alexxavicry @daddy-heather-dunbar @aliensaurusrex @rustyzebra @ilovemycrayons @mandy-asimp @thegrantwater @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @m00nkn1ghts @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @msvenablesbitch @its-soph-xx @going-gray @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess @kdaghay @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @awolfcsworld @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @s1ut4nat @midnight-sapphic @scorpsik @prentiss-theorem @unsubologyy @strongsassysexysloane @svushots @overtrred28 @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @heidss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @aws-l

[fish-eat-fish]

I need headcanons w/ ganke like "being best friends". The reader is gn or female, please, and thank you very much❤

Platonic!Ganke x gn!reader ☆

tags: headcanons, first meeting

wc: 503

a/n: it's so awkward replying to reguests like half a year later... but enjoy cough cough

☆ ☆ ☆

Okay, first of all I just have to believe that Ganke is not a social guy, other than Miles, he doesn’t really put effort into meeting anyone new

So, most reasonably, you met him through Miles

You thought Ganke was pretty cold at first, since he never put too much energy into responding to you

Also attending Visions Academy, you came up with the genius idea of a study group, maybe just for you and Miles

But when you’d brought up the idea to study in his dorm, well Ganke was just a factor you had to include

When Miles introduced the two of you to each other, you didn’t have the best impression of Ganke

Yet Ganke had a good impression of you, he thought you were nice, but he definitely did not share this with Miles

He wasn’t too stoked about you getting comfortable on his lower bunk when you first hung out, but whatever

Miles was your savior when it came to conversation, he led most of the topics

You relied on him to break the silence, since Ganke didn’t seem like much of a talker

Things were going relatively well, until Miles gave you this, “uh oh,” look at Ganke and then at you

He got up, stumbling and stuttering, excusing himself as he shot Ganke a look

You were really confused at this, since Miles’ panic was sudden

And what was that weird look? He definitely didn’t want you to know something

You were okay with him leaving since he seemed to be in an emergency, until you glanced back at Ganke

Ganke

Miles ditched and had left you two together

You grimaced at this, clearing your throat, getting ready to try to strike up a conversation

Weirdly enough, Ganke offered you his bed as he grabbed a controller, loading up a game on his PS4

Sitting back on his bed, you felt awkward and stupid for not hitting it off with the guy

He glanced back at you and grabbed Miles’ controller, handing it to you

“He’s probably not coming back, you wanna play?” He said plainly

You were shocked at the opportunity, nodding

The two of you spent the rest of the day playing his various games, and unlike before, he seemed to be speaking to you way more, to which you happily replied

You guys seemed to joke around comfortably after the initial meeting

After that you visited their dorms to see Miles and Ganke, lounging with their company

Ganke always listened to you ramble about things, making sure to poke fun just a little which made you feel better

He definitely doesn’t remember important things when it comes to other people, but he remembers little things you’ve mentioned before, which confuses you

He’s happy to know someone like you and have you in his company whilst he studies, and after the two of you guys sit on his bunk bed and play games whilst debriefing of course

Miles is pleasantly surprised at the friendship 

☆ ☆ ☆

[moaihybitoyoidaics]

Some Things Never Change~ Jurdan

Jue and Cardan return to the Duarte family home to find a gift for Taryn's baby shower. A trip down memory lane leads them to reconnect with Jude's childhood best friend.

A chapter from The Captured King on wattpad (@ teddyhawkins thats me)

Word count: 2148

Jude's POV

The house still stood as it had the day I had left, almost identical to the pictures we had saved more than ten years before. Although now, instead of sun filled windows there were wooden boards, and the parallel-striped lawn was over grown. The door hung ajar, slightly off its hinges. I turned to look at Cardan, whose face was an indecipherable mask.

"Home sweet home." I muttered under my breath before heading up the cracked paving slabs. Running after me, Cardan's composure fell away a second later.

"Jude, are you sure we're okay to be here?" He asked quietly. "Are you sure nobody will be watching the house?"

I stopped just shy of the front door. "As far as this world is concerned, the Duarte family were massacred almost twelve years ago. No one is looking for us anymore, and no body is bothered about this house." I nudged the door open, groaning as it went. "There are things I should like to retrieve, if they're still here." "I'd follow you to the ends of the earth my dear, lead the way." He followed me inside, creeping as if he could somehow wake the ghosts that remained here.

The carpet was ripped up, presumably taken when the police came to investigate the murders. Still, though, a muddy brown stain remained and the floorboards in the vestibule. The sight turned my blood to ice and a cold sweat bead on my upper lip.

"Jude," Cardan tests, his hand grazing my shoulder blade. "What is it?"

I remembered the day Madoc took us, the day he made that stain. I remembered my white converse skidding in the blood, my legs too short to step entirely over it. "I- it's just hard. Being here, it makes it harder to pretend it all away. Let's just get what we came for and go."

I stepped over the stain and moved on through the house. In the lounge the TV was gone, the sofa was charred as if it had been set alight, soot crept up the wall behind it. On the chimney breast someone, probably an edgy teenager, had sprayed a pentagram, dripping and red. I moved on to the kitchen, noticing the notch in the door frame and another dirty brown patch on the floor. I looked out of the window, into the back garden. Our old swing set stood unused, the chains rusted orange, creaking gently in the autumn breeze. I turned to see Cardan sat on the breakfast bar.

"So this is a mortal kitchen."

"You've been to Vivi's apartment, you know what our kitchens look like."

"It's strange to think of you living here. Before all the... stuff happened." He spoke so softly, I could hardly hear him.

"It's stranger to be back." I left the kitchen and made my way upstairs. I had the best chance of finding what I came for up there. "You can wait here, if you want." I called back to him. He shook his head and jumped down off the island.

"No chance."

I pushed open the door I remembered to be mine. The sight sent another shiver through me. The room has been preserved, almost untouched. There drawers were still open, with the clothes we left behind. The bunk beds, made up with Peter Pan and pink floral sheets. "Mine was the bottom bunk, I used to be obsessed with Peter Pan. Sword fighting, pirates, fairies... I guess some things never change."

"Taryn had the flowers, I'm guessing."

"Like I said. Some things never change." I made my way over to our old bookshelves searching for my sister's favourite book. "Taryn would never like to admit this, but she always wanted to be a homemaker. My mom bought her this Tumtum and Nutmeg, I got the first Harry Potter book instead- which is also about magic-"

"I know, I've read them." Cardan said, surprising me out of my nostalgia.

"You've read them?" My mouth was agape, a shocked laugh at the back of my throat.

"The magic is somewhat rudimentary, I mean using wands? But I did cry in book seven." He seemed confused by my obvious shock.

"Okay, we'll discuss that on the way home. Anyway, I thought it would be nice to return her old copy, you know? For the baby shower." I shoved the book into my satchel and made my way towards the bedroom door. "Let's go."

He caught my arm. "Do you not want to stay? Take back some of your old things?"

"It's painful being here, with everything that happened here." For the first time, I realised how strong my husband was. "I do not know where you find the courage to sit in the burgh everyday, where your family was murdered. I am so sorry."

He shook his head. "You are my family. I don't need to dwell on that anymore."

We made our way out of the house, on the front lawn I took one final look at my old family home and sighed. "I can forget this now. I think I can do that." Cardan kissed me softly on my forehead and smiles.

"I think I saw some ragwort by the side of the house. I'll be right back."

I nodded and he turned and jogged away. I took the opportunity to look around the street I used to play on, the cracks in the asphalt, the weeds on the sidewalk, the girl across the street running out of her house...

"Jude?" I was startled out of my trance. "Jude Duarte?" She called.

"No, sorry." I panicked.

"Liar."

"You have the wrong perso-"

"So you're Taryn then?" I knew the girl. Or rather I used to know her, twelve years ago. A lot had changed since then. "I know it's you Jude."

"Jude Duarte is dead." I lied. "So is Taryn and so is Vivienne. They all died."

"Bullshit." She furrowed her brow and pursed her lips together.

Cardan strode around the corner, clutching a fistful of ragwort stalks, "Jude, are you ready to ride?" It was moments like that which made me remember why I used to hate him.

"Sorry, Jude Duarte is apparently dead." She called to him as she smirked at me. Cardan looked to me, visibly confused.

I sighed. "It's Rosie, right?" She grinned again and nodded. "Okay, Rosie, we were never here. "

"I knew he didn't kill you." She yelled. "I knew it! Everyone said I was crazy but I knew I saw him take you."

"Wait, you saw what happened?" Cardan asked. "You were there?"

"I called the police!" She continued to yell. "You left your bike at me house and I was returning it, I saw that guy take you. Sorry who is this guy?" She pointed to Cardan.

I turned to look at him and realised how strange this must've been for Rosie. Cardan, as beautiful as he was, did not look human. I had dressed him in sneakers and jeans but of course he hadn't concerned himself with disguising his pointed ears or his uncanny features, this was supposed to be a quick trip- in and out. Not to mention the fact that for all intents and purposes, to Rosie I was dead and had been for more than a decade. I looked back at Rosie and sighed.

"Would you like to come in? My folks aren't home, but I have some lemonade in the fridge." She asked sweetly. "I have some videos from when we were kids, if you want to see?"

There was a pang in my chest, a deep yearning to look back in time. But the thought of spending more time here with Rosie and seeing who I could have been coiled around that longing.

"We would love to." Cardan answered for me, taking my hand and following her across the street.

***

Rosie knelt next to an old VCR, feeding it an even older VHS tape. The label on the back of the cassette read Rosie and Duarte girls 2008. 2008? The year we were taken. The TV static dissipated and kicked into life, showing grainy footage of an orange summers day, brown lawns and tanned kids in shorts. The first few seconds of footage primarily consisted of Rosie's dad trying to figure out if the camera was on, that was until I heard a familiar voice; like something pulled from a forgotten dream.

"Mark, the red light is on. It's recording." The camera snapped up and I saw a man. The scruff of his beard and the chestnut brown of his eyes, the slight auburn of his hair catching in the August sun. I I grabbed Cardan's hand and squeezed.

"Jude?"

"That's... uh that was my dad." I said, lump catching in my throat. He squeezed my hand in return, his thumb rubbing gently circles against my skin.

I saw a girl, twin to my younger self sat on the grass with a young Rosie, pulling daisies from the grass and lacing them together, coronating each other with flower crowns. Taryn of course. Then of course there was Vivienne, a few years older than us but an eternity younger than I could recollect, sat under a shady tree. She wore the same disapproving then as she always had, as if she had never taken it off.

"I swear you're in this one Jude. Just wait a minute." Rosie mumbles, fast forwarding through what she must've thought was the most mundane memory, I didn't want to miss a thing. She pauses a rewinds it for a second. "You're going very fast, blink and you'll miss it."

For a moment, I didn't understand what she meant. Until I heard my father cheering and my mother screaming in horror. "Jude! Pull the brakes!"

There I was, a blur peddling faster than my little legs had ever gone before, or since for that matter. I flew down the street on my purple bike, which at the time I had insisted I was tall enough for, before crashing into my neighbours trash cans and flying over the handle bars. I landed in a heap on the floor, blood pouring out of my nose, my knees and elbows skinned and covered in gravel. The camera fell to the floor as Mark, Rosie's dad, ran over to me. My parents caught up a second later, picking me up and dusting me off. My mother fussed over me, pulling a Kleenex out of her pocket and dabbing my nose, but I pushed passed them and picked up my bike.

"I'm going again. I will jump over the trash cans." I couldn't help but laugh, some things never change.

***

We spent the afternoon and most of the evening in Rosie's living room, pouring over childhood memories. Cardan howled watching myself, Taryn and Rosie performing a dance routine to Wannabe by the Spice Girls, trying to convince our parents to let us have another sleepover.

"Jude still can't dance." He said, trying to catch his breath.

Rosie watched him cautiously, still unsure of what to make of him. "So, why did you never come home?" She asked tentatively. "I mean I always thought I saw you at the mall or in coffee houses or one time at a pool I think, so you I know you could come back but you never came home."

I thought about it for a moment before answering. "Where I've been, well where my sisters and I have been, is different. We had to change to survive. If you saw what I was truly like now you wouldn't have invited us in." Cardan watched me try to explain myself, engrossed. "Honestly, I am happy where I am. I made something of my life! But being here and seeing how things could've been for me... it makes me feel homesick but for life."

"Life sick?" She whispered.

"Exactly."

"I still have your bike." She grinned, sensing I didn't want to answer any more questions.

"Her what?" Cardan asked. I shot him a look that I hoped told him to shut up.

Rosie led me outside, she wandered into her garage and pulled out my purple bike, still scuffed with a flat tyre, but it was my bike.

"Take it home with you, wherever that is now. But come and visit us sometime, I want to prove to my folks that I'm not crazy."

I wheeled my bike up the driveway and out into the cool night air, turning back one final time to wave goodbye to my old friend. "Can you make her forget?" I whispered to Cardan.

"Why?"

"It'll be too hard to leave if she knows I'm still out there." I sighed. "There'll be questions, people will think she's lost the plot."

"No." He placed his hand on the small of my back. "You deserve to be remembered."

[galionne-speeding]

Robo Roommates AU: Room Headcanons

Quick little list of everyone's rooms/what's in them/etc.

Scratch and Grounder share a room. They never had their own rooms back when they worked for Robotnik and being seperated would feel weird. So they recharge in bunk beds outfitted with two charging stations. Scratch gets the top bunk because he's older (or so he says, the truth is that Grounder can't be bothered to climb the ladder and he moves around so much in his sleep he ends up on the floor half the time so he'd rather be closer to the ground). They also have a TV in there with a VHS player so they can watch Scratch's Edgar Eagle tapes.

Coconuts has two rooms. The first is the one he picked out when he and the twins first got to the Sanctuary- but he never seems to actually use it unless he absolutely needs to recharge. There's no decoration or personal items in it. His other, "secret" room is where he actually sleeps. It's a tiny room hidden away in a part of the base no one over goes to, just under the roof. He has a fairly impressive monkey plush collection stashed away in there ; including a massive 7ft plushy that D.U.F.U.S. managed to find on one of his trips outside. It serves as Coco's bed. Officially only Orbot knows about and is allowed in the secret room ; but everyone actually knows that Coconuts sleeps "somewhere in the ceiling".

D.U.F.U.S. doesn't have a room. Scratch and Grounder insisted he pick one when he arrived in the Sanctuary, but since he cannot go into sleep mode and doesn't have any belongings (safe for his surfboard), he said he didn't want a room. During the night when everyone (or most bots) are charging he kind of just roams around, keeping an eye out on the electronics, the surveillance systems, doing a little sweep of the hallways… Occasionally he'll sit down in the corner of Scratch and Grounder's room and reads a book until they wake up. The twins have hence decided that that's His Corner, so they specifically make an effort to keep that one spot clean and not put anything in the way.

Bocoe and Decoe, shockingly, share a room. They both have desks covered in blueprints and loose parts for prototypes. They also have a large double bed, with two charging stations side by side. And when they sleep, oh boy. They're so tangled up with each other it's like a pile of gold and silver spaghetti ; one arm over there and one leg over yonder another foot sticking out from under the other's torso… They will not let go of each other until they wake up- which is when they'll occasionally find Bokkun curled on top of the spaghetti pile because he had a nightmare or got lonely or whatever else he'll never admit to.

Bokkun has his own room and only Cool People are allowed in (which in his book are Grounder, D.U.F.U.S. and Cubot). Decoe and Bocoe are not allowed because they're not! Cool! (Unless they're bringing him food, bombs, new toys, more crayons or they've come to check for monsters under his bed). He's got all his awesome drawings taped up on the walls and several drawers full of bombs.

Cubot and Orbot also share a room, although recently Orbot has been spending most of his time in Coconuts' room playing chess and reorganizing the monkey plushies so Cubot has the place mostly to himself. There's still a pretty clear divide with one half that's always neat and clean and has everything sorted by height and color and the other half has. Stuff. Everywhere. Jars of rocks, broken electronics, a random assortment of tools and nuts and bolts and screws lying everywhere on the floor… It drives Orbot up the wall and is probably why he'd rather lounge around in Coconuts' room.